


A Little Comfort Before Darkness

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies, Multi, My First Fanfic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just outside Rivendell, Frodo realizes who he really loves. This is my very first fan fic ever. Yep, it shows, but I still love it because it was my first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frodo looked up at the sky, feeling small and lonely under the  
thousands of stars that wrought stark silver patterns over the black  
sky. It was a clear, cold December night. He shivered under his  
cloak. He had never felt completely warm since being wounded by the  
Morgul blade. His shoulder still ached, particularly on cold nights  
like this. He hated the middle watch because it always made him feel  
so alone. Everyone had been asleep for hours and they would sleep  
for several hours more after his watch was finished. A wretched ache  
of loneliness gave him a lump in his throat. He glanced at the  
sleeping forms of his dearest friends Sam, Merry, and Pippin. He  
should never have allowed them to come. They were so young and  
unaware of their danger.

"A beautiful night, is it not, Frodo?"

"It's not your watch," Frodo said with a smile. His heart had skipped  
when he heard the silky voice of the Ranger. He hoped Aragorn would  
stay and keep him company. At least it was dark enough to hide the  
heat from his cheeks.

"I couldn't sleep."

Frodo's heart skipped again. Lately he had found himself looking at  
Aragorn in a new light. Ever since Rivendell, when he had awakened  
from his horrible illness, he had begun to notice little things, like  
how the fading sunlight gave the Ranger's sun-bronzed face a noble,  
fiery look, how his taut arm muscles flexed when he grabbed his  
sword, the concern that softened his face when he looked at Frodo.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Frodo answered. In truth, he was not too  
sorry. Moments alone with Aragorn were hard to come by. While they  
walked through the wilderness, he had sometimes slipped to the rear  
to walk beside him. He felt embarrassed to do that too often because  
Aragorn seemed often to crave solitude. Aragorn had pledged his life  
and sword to protect Frodo and the quest, but Frodo wondered whether  
Aragorn would feel the same protectiveness if Frodo did not carry the  
Ring.

Silly hobbit, he chastized himself. Of course not. Why would he? His  
mission lies around the Ring and nothing more.

"Why don't you go to bed now, Frodo? I can take over. You need your  
rest. You've looked so weary lately."

Frodo longed to tell him that his weariness would be eased if only he  
would return the smoldering desire Frodo felt for him. He could bear  
the increasing weight of the Ring, the desperation of his mission,  
the ache in his shoulder. Frodo smiled wanly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He did not have the courage to speak of his  
feelings. Not yet.

Aragorn smiled and squeezed Frodo's shoulder. Too soon he withdrew  
his hand.

Frodo curled into his bedroll. He could not sleep. He longed to stay  
up with Aragorn and rest inside his muscular arms. He wished he  
could find a subtle way to let Aragorn know his feelings. It was  
getting more and more difficult to bear whenever he was not near him.

The next morning, they woke to a cold, brutal wind that blasted  
through their clothing. Frodo could not seem to warm up. He rubbed  
his hands together.

"I don't understand how you Halflings can bear going without shoes,"  
Boromir said with grudging admiration. "My toes feel completely  
frozen over."

"Our feet are our shoes," Pippin said with an enthusiastic  
smile. "Maybe if we sparred a bit later, you'd warm up."

"Certainly, little one," Boromir said and ruffled his hair. He  
looked at Frodo with a queer gleam in his eye. Frodo held his gaze.  
Lately the Man had made him very uneasy. On the surface he seemed  
kind and strong. Several times when Frodo had stumbled over tree  
roots or sliding rocks, Boromir had caught him. He seemed interested  
in learning about the Shire and engaged in lively conversation with  
the younger hobbits. All the same, Frodo didn't trust him. It may  
have been his obvious disdain that a halfling could make it all the  
way to Mordor with the Enemy's Ring. Or it could have been his  
comment about using the Ring to fight Mordor.

"Are you cold, Frodo?"

Frodo looked up at Aragorn with a smile.

"A little. But I'll be okay once we start walking."

The company finished breakfast and packed, preparing for another  
weary day of walking against an icy wind over rocky and uneven  
ground. Frodo toted his pack and took in a deep breath. He didn't  
realize that his mouth had curved into a secret smile as he thought  
about Aragorn. He had fallen into a daydream in which he was on  
watch, much like the night before, and Aragorn came to join him.  
Instead of bading Frodo go to sleep, he wrapped his strong arms  
around Frodo's slight figure and hugged him close. His lips danced  
over Frodo's soft skin, his massive body enveloped Frodo's delicate  
frame--

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice broke into his reverie.

"Hello, Sam," Frodo answered, blushing, as if Sam had read his  
thoughts.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked. "You look right tired, if I may  
say so."

"I am all right," Frodo said. He glanced behind him. Aragorn was on  
the rear again, his face unreadable and stoic.

"Sam, I must ask Strider something," he said. "Go on ahead. I'll  
catch up with you later."

Sam patted his shoulder. Frodo allowed his pace to slow down. He  
pretended to stumble, timing it so that he was picking himself up  
just as Aragorn came upon him.

"Frodo, are you all right?" Aragorn asked in concern.

"Yes." Frodo wiped the dust off himself. "Just a little fall. I'm  
always doing that."

He didn't add that this time he had done it purposefully.

"Tell me about this land, Aragorn." Frodo said, stepping close beside  
the Ranger. Just talking to him made his heart feel light. While  
listening to Aragorn, he could almost forget about the burden of the  
Ring. He looked up at the Ranger with blue and guileless eyes.  
Aragorn looked down at him and Frodo caught the hint of a smile.  
Aragorn launched into the history of Hollin and its people. Frodo  
listened more to the richness of his voice than to the content of his  
tale. His voice sounded like he imagined Aragorn's calloused hands  
to feel on his body--rough and rich, with an undertone of danger.  
Frodo swayed closer to him. Aragorn stepped on Frodo's foot, and  
Frodo cringed in genuine pain, grabbing his injured foot.

"I'm very sorry!" Aragorn cried, bending down to see the damage. His  
hot breath tickled Frodo's neck, and Frodo felt a tightening in his  
trousers. If only he would remain there, gripping Frodo's shoulder,  
breathing into his neck. Frodo refrained from grabbing him around the  
neck and pressing his lips against his.

"It's all right," Frodo said, forcing a smile. "Really."

"No, let me have a look. That was a lot of weight to come down on  
your foot."

After Aragorn was satisifed that he had truly done no damage to the  
hobbit, he straightened up again.

"You seem very interested in all I have to say, but wouldn't you  
prefer the company of your friends?"

Frodo looked at him in puzzled hurt. Aragorn's voice had seemed  
unusually gruff.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," Frodo said in a small voice, unable  
to keep a flush of shame from his cheeks. "I'll leave you at once."

"No, I did not intend to push you away. I just thought maybe...Well,  
I am a Man of the wild. I must be very puzzling to you hobbits of the  
Shire."

"Fascinating, yes," Frodo said with a smile. "And I don't imagine us  
hobbits hold much fascination for a man who has seen all the world."

"Hobbits are one of the most fascinating creatures I have dealt with  
in my life," Aragorn said, half to himself. Frodo felt warmth inside  
as he tried to interpret the nuance in Aragorn's voice.

That evening, Frodo watched as Aragorn left with Legolas to gather  
firewood. Frodo chatted with his friends, but his heart was not in  
it. He wished Aragorn had asked him to come with him to gather  
firewood. He cringed at how childish he was being, like a tweenager  
in love for the first time. It was undignified on such a serious  
mission. But he could hardly be blamed. He had never been in love  
before. He gasped at the brutal honesty of his thoughts. He was in  
love with Aragorn. The love ached in his chest and took away his  
appetite. He couldn't bear it when Aragorn was out of sight.

Aragorn and Legolas returned an hour later, laughing together in rare  
merriment. Frodo saw Legolas rub Aragorn's shoulder. Frodo had not  
seen Aragorn laugh since Rivendell. He felt a jab of savage  
jealousy. Aragorn and Legolas sat together, somewhat separate from  
the rest of the fellowship. Frodo's appetite had gone completely.

"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Frodo said. "I am just weary."

"You can't hide it from your Sam. I know something's wrong. You've  
not been yourself for days. You didn't eat a bite."

"Sam, if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?"

"With all my heart."

"I...I know this will sound odd to you. You have Rosie waiting for  
you at home."

Sam blushed and nodded.

"Yes, a sweet, wonderful lass she is."

"Yes, Sam, and I'm so happy for you. But I have nobody. I've never  
been in love before. I...I have feelings for someone." He said the  
last words so quietly that Sam could barely hear.

"Feelings?" Sam said, clearly puzzled.

"I'm in love with Aragorn."

Sam stared at him in shock. Frodo knew that the shock was not so much  
that Frodo was in love with a male--at one time, Frodo and Sam had  
experimented together with such matters--but that he was in love with  
a Man, and to top it off, the future king of Gondor.

"Mr. Frodo!"

"Shhh! You mustn't tell anyone!"

"Frodo, he's a Man!"

"I know." Frodo's blue eyes shone as he gazed in Aragorn's  
direction. "He moves something inside me. I cannot stop thinking  
about him. I want to be with him all the time. I just don't know how  
to show him."

"Oh, Frodo." Sam squeezed his arm. "Anyone would be so lucky to have  
your love. If this Aragorn doesn't want you, then he doesn't deserve  
you."

Frodo gave him a fond smile.

"Thank you, Sam."

His smile faded as he looked over to where Legolas and Aragorn were  
sitting. Aragorn had just put his arm around Legolas in a friendly  
manner. Frodo looked away, miserable, but his breath caught as his  
gaze fell on Boromir. Boromir was staring at him with the same hard  
gaze. Frodo was tired of feeling uneasy and frightened. He needed to  
confront Boromir now, while all the company was still with him. He  
jumped to his feet and stalked over to Boromir. Boromir flinched in  
surprise at the sight of the flushed hobbit standing in front of him.

"Boromir, what is it? I've noticed you staring at me for days now. Is  
something the matter?"

Boromir looked embarrassed--but there was a hard gleam in his eyes.

"Staring at you? Nay, little one. It is your imagination."

Aragorn and Legolas had turned around to watch. Aragorn looked tense.

"Please. I would appreciate it if you stopped," Frodo said. He  
wheeled away from Boromir, feeling all the more uneasy. He was not  
sure what he thought he had accomplished. He had just made his  
situation perhaps even more dangerous. Boromir was a large warrior.  
If he wanted the Ring, he could take it at any time.

Frodo's watch was late that night. He shivered violently again,  
wishing more than ever that Aragorn would get up and come to him  
again. As if in response to his desire, he heard heavy steps behind  
him. His shivers turned to delight. Aragorn would sit beside him  
and--

"Frodo."

It was Boromir. Frodo's heart banged against his chest. He leaped to  
his feet, prepared to cry out for help if necessary.

"There is no need to be frightened of me," Boromir said. "Why do you  
flinch whenever I am near?"

Frodo did not answer. He swallowed, but his throat felt dry. He  
wished Boromir would leave him. He did not want to talk to him.

"I do not mean to make you feel uncomfortable," Boromir continued,  
spreading his hands out to make himself look as harmless as  
possible. "I had not realized the Halflings were so timid."

Frodo flushed. He was not timid. He had to admit that his first sight  
of men had been intimidating. He had been frightened of Aragorn when  
he first met him in Bree. But he had hardly been timid when he had  
stood up during the council of Elrond and agreed to take the Enemy's  
Ring into Mordor.

Boromir fell to his knees in front of Frodo so that they were close  
to the same height. He placed his heavy hands on Frodo's shoulders.  
Frodo gasped and tried to move back.

"You are so..." The expression on Boromir's face grew more  
tender. "Frodo, you are so sweet and innocent. You bear such a heavy  
burden and I fear for you. I know you don't think much of me, but I  
would still die for you. Minis Tirith stands on a thread, a thread  
that you hold. Will you not trust me? It hurts me so that you look  
at me always with such mistrust."

Frodo looked at the Man's face in sudden compassion. Maybe he had  
misjudged him. Maybe he had been too harsh on him. Boromir's fingers  
left Frodo's shoulders. Frodo's heart banged in his chest as  
Boromir's fingers reached slowly, as if he were in a trance, toward  
Frodo's chest, where the Ring lay hidden. Then his fingers moved  
away from the Ring and gently stroked Frodo's cheek. Frodo gasped in  
alarm, but Boromir's eyes were closed, as if he were in great pain.  
He pulled away suddenly, standing to his full height. He walked away  
without saying anything. Frodo collapsed on the stone he had been  
sitting on. He was trembling so badly that he could barely breathe.

Aragorn's watch was next. Frodo bent down beside Aragorn. He watched  
him breathe in and out. He longed ot reach out and stroke Aragorn's  
whiskered cheek. He shook his shoulder instead. Aragorn tensed and  
jumped up, nearly knocking Frodo over.

"Frodo," he whispered, grabbing Frodo's shoulder to keep him from  
falling. "Is all well?"

Frodo thought about Boromir and shuddered. He did not think he should  
say anything to Aragorn about his odd behavior. Not yet.

"Yes." Frodo nodded. He looked longingly after Aragorn as he went to  
stand watch.

  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The coming days were harsh and cold. The unhabited land seemed full  
of unfriendly eyes. Frodo's thoughts grew dark and unpleasant. He  
was convinced that the situation with Aragorn was hopeless. Aragorn  
had given no sign that he returned Frodo's feelings. It was nearly  
impossible to manuever to sit near him at meal times, as he was often  
in conference with Gandalf, or once again, joking with Legolas. Merry  
and Pippin and Sam often surrounded Frodo. Furthermore, Boromir  
continued to watch him, though he was quick to look away when Frodo  
noticed.

"Mr. Frodo." Frodo was so glad that Sam had come with him. He knew it  
was selfish to take him with him into desperate danger, but without  
his dearest friend, his hope would have long since died. "You look  
upset."

"No, I'm all right." He managed a quick look behind him where Aragorn  
was walking in contemplative silence, his gray eyes watching the land  
around them.

"You should speak to him."

Frodo shook his head.

"No. It doesn't feel right."

They set up camp against a tall cliff in a barren area that did  
little to block the wind. Aragorn looked around, as if making  
certain everyone was accounted for.

"I'm going to scout the area," Aragorn said. "I'll be back in a short  
while."

Frodo spoke before he could talk himself out of it.

"I'll come with you."

Aragorn looked at him in surprise. Then he shook his head.

"Frodo, you should rest. You need to gather all the strength you  
can. This land is rough, and it's only going to get worse."

"I'd rather go with you," Frodo said in a small voice. "It pains me  
to sit still, doing nothing, knowing I'm only walking toward  
darkness."

"Very well. Come along."

Frodo took in a breath of relief, but his heart sank. Aragorn had  
sounded indifferent. He should stop this foolishness. He needed to  
shield his heart from Aragorn. Aragorn didn't love him. His true love  
lay back in Rivendell. Arwen was ethereal and wise. Frodo could  
never compete with that. And it was wrong to compete with it. What  
was he doing? By allowing himself to love Aragorn, he was setting  
himself up to be badly hurt.

"Aragorn, what are you looking for?"

"Signs of the Enemy, Master Baggins."

Aragorn looked intent on what he was doing, barely noticing Frodo's  
existence. Frodo followed doggedly, somewhat regretting his decision  
to follow Aragorn. What was in the future besides heartache and  
regret? He would go into the darkness of Mordor with nothing to  
sustain him. A shadow passed in front of his eyes, and he faltered.  
His shoulder ached. He felt so very cold.

"Frodo?" Aragorn's concerned voice broke into the fog. "Are you  
unwell?"

"No, I'm okay," Frodo said. He tried to rub the mist from his eyes,  
but it only deepened.

"Let's just sit for a moment. You look very pale. You should have  
stayed back at the camp." He shook his head, putting his warm,  
calloused hand over the soft skin on Frodo's cheek. Frodo's small  
hand crept up and covered Aragorn's hand, holding it to his cheek.  
He leaned into it, sighing in deep contentment. Frodo felt Aragorn's  
hand tremble slightly before he roughly snatched it away. Frodo's  
eyes snapped open. He could not believe what he had just done.  
Aragorn was looking at him in dubious shock.

"Frodo..." he said softly. His voice reflected surprise and pity and  
guilt.

"Please, Aragorn," Frodo said. His blue eyes were wide and watery  
with misery. "I'm so cold."

Aragorn sat beside him on the rock and deliberately took Frodo's  
shoulders in his hands, turning Frodo to face him. His gray eyes  
showed compassion, but his hands trembled slightly. Frodo grasped  
Aragorn's arms, leaning his weight into Aragorn's grip. He closed his  
eyes, craving the sensation of Aragorn's lips upon his.

"Frodo, no. This is not right."

Frodo looked up at him in agony. His throat clenched so that he could  
barely breathe. He could not speak. He should have kept his feelings  
buried. At least then he could still have hope that someday Aragorn  
would return his love. Now there was no hope.

"Aragorn, I--"

"Hush," Aragorn said, giving Frodo's shoulders a little shake. "You  
must not speak of such things. You are not yourself. Let us go back  
to camp."

Aragorn got up brusquely, pulling Frodo to his feet. Frodo followed  
him, mute with grief. Not only did Aragorn not return his feelings,  
but he knew of them. Now each time Aragorn looked at him, it would  
be in pity. And perhaps disgust. Frodo swallowed several times. The  
mist had not completely cleared from his eyes, and he gingerly picked  
his way down the rocks until they reached camp.

He ate very little at dinner, and he barely acknowledged the noble  
attempts his young cousins made to cheer him up.

"Mr. Frodo's not feeling well," Sam chastized them. Frodo noted that  
both Boromir and Aragorn looked over at him at the sound of Sam's  
voice. From a distance, Aragorn's expression looked naked with  
emotion, though Frodo couldn't perceive what emotion. Frodo looked  
down, keeping his hands around his knees. He could not even respond  
to Sam. Sam glared in Aragorn's direction. He knew that something had  
happened to make Frodo believe that Aragorn did not return his  
affection.

That evening, Frodo had first watch, which was just as well because  
he was wide awake as everyone else prepared for bed. Frodo walked a  
distance from the others and sat on a boulder wrapped in his  
blankets. He allowed tears to freely flow down his cheeks. He  
thought about everything that had transpired in the past three  
months. His peaceful life in the Shire had been shattered, and he had  
put his friends in danger. He had been poisoned by the Enemy. No  
wonder Aragorn could not love him. He was just a little halfling from  
the Shire with no worldly experience. He was useless with a sword, he  
had to be protected like a child, and Aragorn thought that his  
biggest problem before the Ring had been to decide how many meals to  
have in one day. Legolas, on the other hand, could defend himself.  
He had a rich history. Like Arwen, he had been alive for thousands of  
years.

"Little one, what is your trouble?"

Frodo's heart jumped. Boromir had not spoken to him in over a week,  
not since the last time he had come upon him during his watch. Frodo  
tried not to flinch. He wiped his tears on his sleeve.

"May I sit with you?" Boromir asked.

"Yes." Frodo moved away, making room for Boromir. His heart pounded.  
If Boromir wanted to take the Ring from him now, nothing would stop  
him. Frodo would not even have time to cry out for help. Boromir's  
hand fell on Frodo's shoulder, and he gasped. He was immediately  
ashamed. He had not wanted to show his fear around Boromir.

"I am sorry," Boromir said, pulling his hand away. "I did not mean to  
frighten you. You look miserable. I wish I could help."

"Thank you, Boromir." Frodo managed a sweet smile in his  
direction. "But I don't think there's anything you can do to help."

Boromir kept his head down for several moments. Frodo began to relax.  
Maybe he had read too much into Boromir's staring. Maybe he did not  
lust after the Ring at all. Maybe it was truly concern for a friend.

Finally he spoke in a muffled voice.

"I've seen the way you look at Aragorn."

Frodo looked at him, feeling sick with humiliation. Had he worn his  
heart so obviously on his sleeve? He swallowed and shook his head.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"I know how you feel about him." Boromir turned his gaze fully on  
Frodo. "He is not wise to throw away what fortune gives him."

Frodo's heart battered against his chest again. Boromir was staring  
at him, but his eyes dropped to Frodo's chest again, and Frodo felt a  
slight burning from the Ring which lay against his skin. He was  
beginning to have a bad feeling about this encounter. He wanted to  
flee, but his legs trembled so badly that he knew he would not get  
far. Frodo thought the wisest course was to stay calm.

Without warning, Boromir grabbed Frodo's arms and bent down to press  
his lips with bruising force against Frodo's soft, bow-shaped lips.  
Frodo struggled, but he was no match for the iron grip on his arms  
and the crushing force of Boromir's much larger mouth over his.

Just as Frodo thought he would suffocate, Boromir released him.

"I could give you comfort on your dark way," Boromir said, taking in  
jagged breaths.

Frodo inched away from him. He was trembling all over, still gasping  
for breath.

"No, Boromir. No."

Boromir stared at him, stark pain evident in his eyes.

"You're a fool, halfling! He will never love you back. He is touched  
by the elves. I am a true Man. Come with me to Minis Tirith. I will  
care for you. We will keep the Ring safe from Sauron and you need not  
throw away your life. Frodo!"

He pulled Frodo's arm. Frodo tried to cry out, but Boromir covered  
his mouth with his hand, desperate that the others should not hear.  
Frodo felt blind terror. He attacked Boromir, flailing ineffectual  
fists at Boromir's armored shoulders. Boromir yanked him close,  
wrapping a strong arm around his chest and keeping his other hand  
over Frodo's mouth. He squeezed, trying desperately to still the  
halfling's struggles.

"Shh, Frodo, please stop! I'm not going to hurt you, only don't wake  
the others! Calm down! Stop!"

Frodo couldn't breathe. He struggled now purely out of survival.  
Boromir's grip around his middle was so tight that he could get in no  
air. A roaring filled his ears. He was losing consciousness. If he  
did, he was certain that Boromir would take the Ring.

"Boromir!"

Frodo felt himself dropped. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping  
for air. Aragorn had come. Tears of relief, of humiliation filled  
his eyes. That Aragorn should see him in this position after their  
earlier conversation sent spears through his chest.

"What's going on?" Aragorn asked in a rough voice. Boromir stood  
hastily. Aragorn blocked his exit, waiting for an answer. Frodo  
pulled himself into a sitting position. He was dizzy and too weak to  
climb to his feet.

"The halfling asked me to keep him company," Boromir said. He gave  
Frodo a scornful laugh, but Frodo saw fear deep in his eyes. He had  
been just as shaken up by his act, almost as if he had been unable  
to control it. "I had no idea of the mischief he had planned."

Boromir brushed past him and went back to camp. Aragorn strode  
toward Frodo, fire in his normally calm eyes. Frodo looked up at him  
in terror and backed away, still unable to stand.

"Stay back!" he cried out. If Aragorn betrayed him, too, he would  
never be able to bear it. Aragorn saw the genuine terror in Frodo's  
face and his expression softened. He kneeled, holding out his hand  
as if to a scared deer.

"Frodo."

Frodo looked at him and trust slowly returned. He wrapped his arms  
around his knees, watching as Aragorn approached him and sat beside  
him. Aragorn put a tentative arm around Frodo's shoulder.

"Frodo, what happened?"

"He wants me to go to Minis Tirith," Frodo said in a dull voice. How  
he longed to lean into the strength of Aragorn's arms. He didn't  
dare. Not after the scene that afternoon.

Aragorn stared at him for a long time, as if trying to read more into  
what had happpened that evening.

"Whatever's between you and Boromir," he said in a soft, nearly  
pained voice. "I will not have you in harm's way. You will no longer  
do night watches. Boromir will no longer be allowed to be around you  
without other members of the company around. If he goes against this,  
he will be sent on his way."

They were quiet for several moments. He would feel safe, if only  
Aragorn would hold him.

Aragorn's face softened with deep compassion.

"Frodo," he said. "About what happened earlier--"

Frodo could not bear to see the pity in his face. He jumped to his  
feet. He had recovered from the physical shock of being nearly  
squeezed to death, and his legs held his weight just fine now.

"If you don't mind, I would like to go to bed. I'm very tired."

"Yes," Aragorn said. His gray eyes flickered as he sighed and looked  
down. "Go ahead."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Frodo was unable to go back to sleep that night. His lips still felt  
the ghost of Boromir's bruising kiss on his mouth. His body ached  
where Boromir had grabbed and squeezed him. He shivered. His  
shoulder throbbed and he felt cold all over. And of course, the awful  
humiliation of Aragorn finding out about his feelings for him and  
rejecting him. Frodo's stomach sank every time he thought about it.

The next morning, as they packed, Frodo looked uneasily in Boromir's  
direction, but the Man did not return his gaze. Frodo wanted to keep  
as much distance between himself and the warrior as he could. He  
packed his own bag in silence. He felt heavy with weariness and  
sorrow. Sam touched his shoulder, and he jumped.

"It's only me," Sam said.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm a little jumpy this morning."

"What happened last night?"

"Nothing to worry about." Frodo glanced at Boromir.

"Don't try that again, Mr. Frodo. Something happened. I heard Strider-  
-"

"What did he say?" Frodo asked, clutching Sam's arm. He loosened his  
grip when Sam flinched in pain.

"I just heard him talking in a soft voice to Legolas, something about  
being worried about you and the effect the Ring is having on Boromir."

"Oh." Frodo tried to mask his disappointment. He didn't know what he  
had expected Aragorn to be saying about him. Sam wandered away to  
pack his own bag. Frodo shivered under his cloak, waiting for the  
others to finish packing.

"Frodo."

Boromir's voice was just above him. Frodo flinched and backed away.

"Stay away. Please don't disturb me any more."

"Frodo, I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry I hurt you last night.  
It won't happen again, I give you my word. Only please hear me out."

Frodo looked up at him, poised to run. Aragorn and Gandalf were  
loading the pony. Aragorn glanced back at them.

"I...I don't know what came over me last night," Boromir  
continued. "I look at you...you're so beautiful and fragile. I can't  
stand not being able to touch you." His hands reached toward Frodo,  
as if they had a will of their own, but Frodo backed away. "Frodo, I  
want you. I've wanted you since I saw you in Rivendell--"

"Boromir!" Aragorn's gruff voice interrupted him. "I'd like you to  
lead with Gandalf today. I will take the rear."

Boromir stalked away without another word.

"Thank you," Frodo said to Aragorn, looking up at him with eyes wide  
in gratitude. Aragorn nodded, but looked away. Frodo felt a childish  
desire to stamp his feet, run to Aragorn, and hit him with his small  
fists until he revealed why he was being so cold.

Late that morning, the company was ascending a steep grade. The path  
wound upwards along a steep incline. Gandalf had mentioned that they  
were only going to increase in elevation and it was only going to get  
colder until they got through the pass of Caradhras. Frodo was  
already fatigued. Sweat ran down his face, despite the cold air. He  
was walking just ahead of Aragorn, too embarrassed to drop back and  
speak to him. He felt Aragorn's eyes on him. He straightened his  
shoulders, determined not to falter on his feet. Beginning today, he  
would harden his heart to Aragorn. Aragorn was his friend and  
protector, but nothing more.

He had taken a few more steps when his foot slipped off the path. He  
sluggishly tried to break his fall, but there was nothing to grab  
onto. He tumbled down the sharp incline to the left of the path and  
over the edge of a huge boulder. He watched himself fall in slow  
motion, bewildered and unable to believe that it was happening. He  
heard someone shout his name before he hit the ground hard and  
everything went dark.

He couldn't breathe. Boromir was squeezing him. If he lost  
consciousness, he'd lose the Ring forever. Boromir would take it to  
Minis Tirith and the Enemy would come. Shadows closed in from all  
sides. It wasn't Boromir who was causing him pain, the Ringwraiths  
had returned. They beckoned to him with cold breath, sucking the  
life out of Frodo's lungs.

"No...no," he thrashed from side to side. Someone held him,  
preventing him from moving his head. He couldn't see anything.

"Hold on, Frodo," he heard Aragorn softly say. Then he  
shouted: "Boil some water, Merry and Pippin! I can't move him."

"Is he alive?" Boromir shouted harshly from just above.

Aragorn's hands searched his body, not with strokes of love as Frodo  
had once hoped, but in a clinical search for injuries. A ripping  
pain in his abdomen caused him to cry out. He still could not open  
his eyes. His head ached every time he tried to move.

"No broken bones," Aragorn said from a great distance. His voice  
sounded shaken and hoarse. Frodo knew he must be in a poor state if  
Aragorn was so concerned. "But I'm worried about this wound on his  
stomach."

Soft fingers landed on Frodo's neck, seeking his pulse.

"Rapid and weak," Aragorn said. "He's going into shock."

Frodo tried again to open his eyes, but dizzying shadows overwhelmed  
him, and the voices of his friends faded.

********

Aragorn gazed down at the unconscious halfling. His heart had thudded  
in his ears from the moment he had seen Frodo slip and tumble down  
the incline and over the boulder. He was alive and that was all that  
mattered. Aragorn closed his eyes, and his throat filled with a  
miserable lump. They were weeks from any village. If Frodo was badly  
injured--the thought did not bear thinking about. Aragorn had some  
athelas left and Gandalf had a flask of the miruvor. If Frodo bled  
out internally there would be nothing any of them could do.

He pictured Frodo's luminous face with his enormous blue eyes, gazing  
up at him in wounded grief the afternoon they had scouted their camp  
area. Aragorn hadn't wanted him to come with him. The little hobbit  
had become too much of a temptation. When Frodo had leaned toward  
him, seeking out his lips, Aragorn had fought everything inside  
himself. He had wanted so much to gather Frodo in his arms. He had  
longed to cover Frodo's soft, pink lips with his own. He had wanted  
nothing more than to run his large hands over that soft, fragile  
body. But he couldn't. He was the heir to the throne of Gondor, a  
title that he had not earned yet. He was betrothed to Arwen, who had  
given up her immortality to be with him. Then there was the  
practical issue of their size difference--Aragorn was much bigger and  
stronger than Frodo, and in a physical relationship, Aragorn would  
always be worried about hurting him. Worse than that, if he got too  
close, he would not be able to let go. He simply could not forsake  
Arwen after all she had sacrificed for him. He could not allow  
himself to fully fall for Frodo.

Did that matter now? Aragorn bent over in grief. He should have  
given Frodo that one comfort. A kiss, a word of encouragement, or at  
the least, an honest assessment of his feelings. Frodo's burden was  
heavy and would only get more wretched as time went on. The quest  
might very well kill him in the end. It may have already killed him.  
Aragorn closed his eyes. He had been a fool.

"Is he dead?" Sam cried out, tears streaming down his face. The  
others were gathered around Aragorn, who knelt on the ground with the  
injured halfling in his arms.

"No," Aragorn said. He blinked back his own tears. "No, he's not  
dead, but he's badly hurt."

Sam flushed and his eyes narrowed. He turned on Aragorn in a fury.

"Do something then!" he shouted. "You're just holding him! That's all  
he wanted, you know. He wanted you to hold him. He loves you and--  
Now..now it's too late!" Sam burst into fresh tears, too full of his  
own grief to realize that he had broken his word to Frodo not to say  
anything to anyone.

"Sam," Aragorn said in a soft voice. "I cannot do anything until the  
athelas is finished boiling."

His heart had skipped when Sam had mentioned that Frodo loved him.  
Was that true? He met Boromir's eyes then. Boromir's expression was  
difficult to read. He looked sickened by what had happened. He  
looked at Aragorn in barely contained disdain. Underneath his  
helpless concern for Frodo and resentment toward Aragorn was a sly  
gleam, barely contained. The evil of the Ring was overtaking  
Boromir. Aragorn understood in that moment that the part of Boromir  
already overtaken by the Ring was glad Frodo was injured and wished  
for him to die and thus abandon the Ring.

"No, you cannot die, sweet Frodo," he murmurred. "I won't let you."

He did not care that everyone was watching. He bent down and tenderly  
kissed Frodo's clammy forehead.

Merry and Pippin, faces streaked with frightened tears, brought the  
bowl of athelas brew. Aragorn dipped a cloth in it and wiped Frodo's  
face. The halfing's ragged breaths eased somewhat, and for that he  
was grateful. He kissed the cold forehead several more times. Frodo  
blinked rapidly and then opened his eyes. His brilliant eyes looked  
huge in contrast to his pale face. There was an odd glassy quality  
to them.

"Aragorn," he whispered.

"I'm here," Aragorn said tenderly. "I will take care of you."

Frodo turned away. Aragorn let his hand rest in Frodo's dark curls,  
reluctant to pull his hand away.

He bade the company set up camp where they sat. It was relatively  
sheltered, and he did not want to move Frodo unless he had to. He  
gathered his own cloak and blankets and made a comfortable bed for  
Frodo to lie on. He unclasped Frodo's cloak and unbuttoned his vest  
and shirt. Frodo's abdomen was red and distended. Aragorn swallowed  
in renewed grief. This was not good. There were a few herbs, such  
as the Rolo weed and the Sron flower that were known to slow internal  
bleeding, but Aragorn had no way of knowing whether they grew in this  
barren land.

"Aragorn," Frodo whispered. "Please...need to...can't."

"Don't speak, Frodo," Aragorn said, noting the pain on Frodo's  
face. "I'm going to care for you the best I can."

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Frodo asked in a flat voice.

"No," Aragorn said, swallowing again. "No, I won't let you."

He bent down, closing his eyes, and allowed his mouth to cover  
Frodo's soft, moist lips with his own. He didn't care if anybody else  
noticed. He felt Frodo's breathing grow more rapid. He opened his  
eyes and saw that Frodo's blue eyes were staring directly at him in a  
mixture of love and mistrust. Aragorn pulled back, not wanting to  
frighten him.

"You...don't have to...you don't need to do that," Frodo said weakly.

Aragorn answered him with another kiss, more tender but drawn out.  
He couldn't help it, but he was doing exactly what he claimed he  
would not allow himself to do. He looked into those blue eyes, and  
everything else ceased to matter. Arwen seemed distant and cold, his  
kingship seemed trite. The Ring and the quest seemed secondary to the  
warm and loving halfling that he held. He longed to hide Frodo away,  
to take him to a cottage in a remote forest. They could forget about  
Sauron and the Ring. Aragorn would never grow tired of waking beside  
this sweet face.

He had to leave him now. He had to find the herbs that would save his  
life. Reluctantly he stood, still looking down at the tiny pale  
figure.

He bade Sam sit beside Frodo before walking over to talk to Gandalf.

"How is he?" Gandalf asking, trying to mask the pain on his face.

"I have to find some herbs to stop the bleeding," Aragorn  
said. "Watch him, Gandalf, and make sure Samwise keeps washing him  
with athelas. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Aragorn walked swiftly into the barren land, allowing a final glance  
at Frodo's prone body.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Frodo lay in a fog of pain. Orcs hit his stomach over and over again  
with fiery hammers. Every time he breathed, new hammering assailed  
him. He whimpered, feeling tears sliding down his face. Sam wiped  
his face. The fragrant scent of athelas eased his breath temporarily  
and reminded him of Aragorn. Had Aragorn just kissed him or had it  
been a dream? Frodo sighed with despair. It had probably been a  
dream. Aragorn had been so cold to him that morning.

"How is he?" Boromir asked. His voice was too close, and Frodo  
cringed in fear, trying desperately to move away from him. New pain  
erupted in his stomach, and he cried out.

"If you don't mind, Boromir, sir," Sam said in a coldly polite  
tone. "You're upsetting him. Please move back."

Boromir obeyed, and Frodo didn't hear his voice any more. Beads of  
new sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Aragorn," he gasped.

"He's coming, Mr. Frodo. He went to find you some medicine."

Gandalf sat beside him. He took Frodo's cold hand in his two large  
warm dry hands and rubbed vigorously.

"Come, Frodo Baggins. You'll be up and about in no time."

Frodo looked up at him, his eyes filling with tears.

"I've failed, Gandalf," he whispered. "The quest--"

"Nonsense," Gandalf replied, hiding the worry in his face. "You're  
going to mend just fine. Swallow this."

Gandalf lifted Frodo's head, supporting him under his neck, and  
helped him swallow a few mouthfuls of the miruvor. A warmth surged  
down his throat and coated the hot pokers that stabbed at his  
stomach. He sighed and lay back, reveling in the immediate relief  
the potion brought.

"I feel better," he whispered. "Thank you."

"You just rest. Sam will sit by you."

Frodo closed his eyes. He knew that the miruvor was only temporary.  
He wanted to fall asleep, to get some rest while he could. He dozed,  
feeling the steady warmth of Sam's hands rubbing over his.

He was awakened by a churning in his abdomen. The pain had come back  
tenfold and was swirling in a tight whirlpool, turning in on itself.  
He was going to vomit. He swallowed again and again, trying  
desperately to avoid needing to roll over. He was too weak to move.

"Sam!" he gasped. Sam had fallen asleep beside him. Frodo gasped,  
swallowing in desperation. He cried out. Heavy footsteps ran toward  
him. Boromir knelt swiftly beside him.

"Are you in pain, little one?" Boromir spoke in a soothing, kind  
voice. Sam snapped awake. He glared at Boromir.

"Mr. Frodo!" he cried in concern when he saw the contorted look of  
pain on his dear friend's face.

"I'm going to be sick," Frodo said, trying to lift himself enough to  
roll over. Sweat broke out all over his body, causing his shirt to  
cling to him. Sam watched as Boromir lifted Frodo over, holding his  
shoulders. Frodo had no will or strength to resist, but Boromir's  
hands on him were gentle. Not like the previous night, when they had  
clenched him so tightly he thought he might be broken into two. Where  
was Aragorn? It was late afternoon. A fresh sheen of cold sweat broke  
out on his forehead. Aragorn had been gone a long time. He may have  
been killed while searching for herbs. The idea that Frodo might  
never see Aragorn again made him gasp out in fresh pain.

"Shh, little one. Just try to relax," Boromir said. He looked at  
Frodo with such tenderness that it was difficult to believe he had  
grown so violent the evening before. Under the Ring's unwholesome  
effect on Boromir, Frodo sensed that the Man truly did care for him.

After Frodo finished rejecting everything in his stomach, Boromir set  
him gently on his back again. Frodo watched through fading  
consciousness as Gandalf came to join him.

"Gandalf, this doesn't look good," Boromir said in a shaken  
voice. "I've seen warriors with wounds such as Frodo's and none of  
them survive."

"Hush, Boromir!" Gandalf said, glancing in Frodo's direction. Frodo  
closed his eyes. Boromir's words fell on him like an avalanche. So  
he was as bad off as he thought. The quest had failed. He wished that  
Aragorn would come back. He would be able to face his death bravely  
if Aragorn were sitting beside him holding his hand just as dear Sam  
was doing right now.

*****

Aragorn arrived as dusk was falling. He had searched for hours and  
had only managed to find a small cluster of the Sorn flower and a bit  
more athelas. That would have to do to start out with. Frodo needed  
immediate treatment. He strode toward the sound of voices coming from  
the campsite. He had been gone for hours. Even one hour could be  
critical with internal bleeding. The idea that Frodo might have died  
while he was out searching for herbs pierced his stomach, and he was  
nearly bowed over with grief. He thought about his last kiss with  
him--those sweet, moist lips that had parted in relief and joy. If  
Frodo hadn't been injured, Aragorn would have taken him away from the  
others and had him right there.

"I'll forsake everything. Everything." He thought about Arwen's pale,  
beautiful face and felt deep shame. Ironically, he imagined that she  
would approve of his choice. Out of all the fellowship, she had taken  
the most to Frodo. She had been impressed by his knowledge of elvish,  
his sweet nature, his strength in fighting the morgul blade that went  
beyond many of her own kind. His thoughts slipped to Frodo as he had  
been before he got injured--his wide, trusting blue eyes, his musical  
laughter when he had watched Boromir teaching the young hobbits to  
spar, the determined square to his small shoulders, the bow shape of  
his lips which sometimes gave him a look of irrestible petulence.

"Aragorn." Gandalf greeted him. Aragorn's heart sank. Gandalf looked  
grave. He was going to tell him that Frodo had died.

"Is he alive?" Aragorn blurted through shaking lips.

Gandalf sighed but did not speak right away. Aragorn was not able to  
be patient with his old friend's slow manner of speech.

"Mithrandir, please tell me--is he alive?"

"Yes, yes. He's still alive, Aragorn." His wise eyes looked  
sad. "But he's not in good shape. And we can't linger here. Legolas  
has been feeling uneasy. He thinks we should move on. We also--you  
and I--must discuss what will be done with the quest in the worst-  
case scenario." Gandalf looked back at Frodo. "If he...if he--"

"I will not allow him to die," Aragorn said firmly. "I made him that  
promise. But we cannot move him, Gandalf."

"Aragorn, you can't allow your emotions to get in the way of reason!  
Do you think I do not grieve? I have known Frodo Baggins since he was  
a baby! I knew when this quest was thrust upon him that it could go  
ill for him. It breaks my heart that this sweet hobbit, who should  
have never had a more serious problem than choosing which tree to sit  
under to read, is now being forced into trials and dangers that most  
of the warriors of the Big People will never be able to boast of. But  
we must take the advice of Legolas. If we are attacked here, it could  
go ill for all of us!"

"I know." Aragorn closed his eyes. "All right, Gandalf. We will  
move. I found a small, abandoned hut an hour's march from here.  
Nearby is an area more sheltered by trees. We will move Frodo to the  
hut and the rest of us will camp nearby in the woods. We should be  
safer there. But before we move, I must treat him with these herbs."

He knelt beside Frodo, caressing his damp cheek with the back of his  
hand. Frodo's eyes instantly opened. Despite the waxy pallor of his  
skin, his eyes brightened at the sight of Aragorn.

If that sweet, eager face could greet me the rest of my days, I would  
die happy, Aragorn sighed to himself.

"Good evening, Master Baggins," Aragorn said, trying to keep his  
voice light. "How are you doing?"

"You're back," Frodo whispered. "I'm glad. Don't leave."

"I won't leave you. I'm going to need you to chew down this plant.  
It's not going to have a very pleasant taste, for which I apologize  
in advance."

"I'll just pretend it's your cooking," Frodo said with a weak smile.  
An attempt at humor. That was good. Aragorn returned the smile. The  
one time Aragorn had attempted to cook for the company, it had gone  
ill. He had burned the soup, and the meat had been dry and  
tasteless. Sam had given him trouble about it for days. After that,  
the younger hobbits became the main cooks under Sam's watchful eye.

Aragorn crushed up the flower in his hand. He put his arm under  
Frodo's neck and lifted his head up just enough so that he could  
swallow. Aragorn chuckled when Frodo winced at the bitter taste.  
Aragorn normally mixed it in a brew, but Frodo needed an intense,  
fast-acting dose. He had to be careful. A dose appropriate for a man  
with internal injuries could well kill a hobbit. Aragorn's hands ran  
over Frodo's arms, rubbing them, trying to warm some more life into  
them. His hand crept to Frodo's neck. He let out an involuntary sigh  
of pleasure when he felt Frodo's silky skin under his fingers. He  
longed to have Frodo undressed, to explore every inch of his body.  
He noticed Frodo's blue eyes on him. He bent down and kissed Frodo's  
forehead. Frodo closed his eyes in contentment. Heart speeding up,  
Aragorn bent down again and captured Frodo's soft lips in his again.  
He felt the tentative dart of a small tongue inside his mouth and he  
felt dizzy. He wanted to drink it in. He closed his eyes, smelling  
Frodo's hair, his sweet breath.

"Frodo," he groaned.

He reluctantly pulled away. Frodo was badly hurt and the company was  
in danger. He cleared the fog from his mind.

"Frodo, I'm going to have to carry you. We have to move on from this  
area. We're in danger here."

"I'm so sorry," Frodo said. His eyes filled with sudden tears. "If I  
hadn't fallen..."

"Don't!" Aragorn said gruffly. He lifted Frodo up as carefully as he  
could. Frodo's huge eyes filled with pain and his skin turned a  
sickly white.

"Hold on," Aragorn whispered. "I'm sorry."

The others had packed and were ready to move on. Aragorn gave the  
bulk of his items to Boromir and Legolas to carry.

Aragorn carried Frodo on his hip, as if he were a small child, trying  
to keep him as stable as possible. Frodo wrapped his arms around  
Aragorn's neck and laid his head on his chest. Aragorn stepped down  
a particularly steep rock and he stumbled, nearly falling. Frodo was  
jostled against him, and he cried out.

"I'm so sorry!" Aragorn said, trying to soothe Frodo. He looked down  
at Frodo's face, but the hobbit had lost consciousness.

"Just another half-hour," Aragorn murmurred. "Just hold on a little  
longer."

Aragorn thought about the hut he had found. It was so small, more the  
size of a hobbit hole than a man dwelling, with only one room with a  
bed and a fireplace. Aragorn had dismissed it at the time since  
there would not be enough room for all of the company to sleep. But  
Frodo could lie in a real bed with a fire in the fireplace.

Aragorn kissed Frodo's sweaty brow several times as they continued to  
march. He did not notice Boromir's hard stare in his direction.

  
TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Frodo opened his eyes when felt Aragorn push open a door. He had a  
vague memory of Aragorn having said they were making for a hut. He  
was first aware that Aragorn's strong arms were still encircled  
around his body. Next he was aware that the pain in his stomach had  
lessened considerably. He felt limp and shaky, as if no strength  
existed in his limbs. At least the wretched pain that had made him  
wish for death had faded to a light throb. Aragorn carried him  
inside while the others set up camp under the trees within shouting  
distance.

The hut had obviously been abandoned, but it was not too dirty yet.  
To be safe, Aragorn spread his cloak over the sheets and lay Frodo  
gently on the bed.

"A real bed," Frodo said in wonder. His blue eyes widened in  
concern. "Where are the others? Where is Sam?"

"There is not enough room in here for everyone so they are camping  
outdoors, under the trees."

"It's not right," Frodo said, thinking of his dear, young friends  
outside in the cold. "I feel so...so selfish if I am the only--"

"Don't be ridiculous, Frodo. You were badly injured and you are the  
Ringbearer."

Frodo gave him a teasing smile. The herbs Aragorn had given him had  
made his head light, and he was feeling daring.

"Is that the only reason you care?"

"The Ring is very dear to me," Aragorn smirked, allowing his hand to  
drift over Frodo's soft cheek.

Frodo turned away, pushing Aragorn's hand away in mock anger.  
Aragorn climbed on the bed, straddling Frodo's body with his knees.  
Frodo repressed an urge to pull his face toward his. He hungered to  
taste his lips again. Now that they were alone...He did not dare to  
hope.

"Now, Master Baggins, I'm afraid I must have you chew some more of  
that flower you had earlier."

"Gladly," Frodo said. "If that was what made the pain lessen, I'll  
eat as much as I must."

Frodo was able to lean up on his elbows. He winced as the muscles in  
his stomach contracted, causing new pain to erupt. He tried not to  
gasp out in pain.

"Easy," Aragorn said, supporting the back of his head.

"Will I be...Will I be the only one in here all night?" Frodo asked,  
his throat tightening. Aragorn had so far not hinted about whether he  
intended to stay.

Aragorn shook his head.

"I do not want you to be alone in case you start bleeding again."  
Aragorn gravely put his hand over Frodo's forehead. "I will ask Sam  
to come stay with you."

"Oh." Frodo looked down, intensely disappointed. Aragorn had kissed  
him, but perhaps he had only done so to give Frodo comfort. Aragorn  
knew that was what would make him happy and so he had kissed him not  
because he wanted to, but to give Frodo strength to fight the pain  
and death that threatened him. Frodo closed his eyes, feeling cold  
and weary. Aragorn didn't have any more feelings for him now than he  
did a day ago. Frodo could not believe that it had only been about  
twenty-four hours since the humiliating conversation in which he had  
practically thrown himself at Aragorn and Aragorn had rejected him.  
He would not have a repeat of it now.

"You would prefer someone other than Sam?" Aragorn asked in a soft  
voice. Frodo looked up, his heart jogging. His cheeks grew warm.

"I'd...I love Sam with all my heart." Frodo clenched his hands  
together. Aragorn was not making this easy. Frodo couldn't tell for  
sure whether he was being teased. If it turned out that Aragorn had  
only kissed him out of pity, then Frodo thought his heart would break.

"So you'd prefer someone else. What about Legolas?"

Frodo's chest lightened, and a broad smile crossed his face. Aragorn  
WAS teasing him! He had fully intended to stay with him from the  
beginning.

"I think I'd like Boromir," Frodo murmured, his eyes still  
sparkling. "He would keep me warm."

"Be careful what you wish for, hobbit," Aragorn said in a throaty  
voice. He leaned in close. His knees still straddled Frodo's body,  
and now their faces were only inches apart.

"But," Frodo said breathlessly, longing for the ranger's lips to  
crush down on his. "A ranger from the north would do."

Aragorn jumped backward, off the bed.

"I will be back, Frodo. Let me tell the others where I will be."

Frodo leaned back in his pillow. His lips tingled, he had longed so  
much to be kissed. A sweet grin remained on his face. Aragorn would  
stay all night with him. Never since the beginning of his quest had  
Frodo felt such lightness of heart.

******

Aragorn strode to the campsite where the others had already built a  
fire.

"How is he, Strider?" Sam cried out. "Can I go see him?"

Aragorn felt a selfish jab of possessiveness. He didn't want anyone  
else to take a moment of Frodo's time. Not while they had several  
days of privacy.

"Yes, Sam," he said reluctantly. "You may see him, but not until  
tomorrow. He's doing much better, but he needs his rest."

Sam wiped a tear away, sighing with relief. He trotted over to Merry  
and Pippin to tell them the good news.

"How is the halfling?" Boromir asked.

"He is well," Aragorn said curtly. "I will be staying with him."

Boromir's lips turned up into a smirk that seemed to hide a mountain  
of desperate pain. He was dangerous. Aragorn needed to keep a close  
watch on him. He should in no way be allowed to be alone with Frodo.  
Aragorn thought about last night when he had found Frodo struggling  
against him. He had never found out exactly what had transpired  
between them, but he shuddered to think about what might have  
happened if he had not interrupted. Aragorn was eager for the day  
when Boromir would go on to Minis Tirith. Boromir's voice was low  
and sly.

"I imagine Frodo needs the kind of healing only you could provide,  
Ranger."

Aragorn did not answer. He gathered some odds and ends, including a  
bowl of the soup Merry and Pippin had made. Frodo needed to eat  
something.

Aragorn returned to the hut, gratified by the sweet smile on Frodo's  
face. He looked much better. Some color had returned to his cheeks  
and the desperate, glassy glaze in his eyes had faded. Dark circles  
remained under his eyes and his lips still looked pale, but that was  
to be expected. Frodo would live. He had pulled through the worst.

Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed.

"You should eat something, Frodo. I brought you some soup."

"I'm not really hungry," Frodo said, still a contented smile on his  
face.

"All the same, I want you to eat just a little. You must have  
strength to heal."

"All right." Frodo adjusted his body so that he leaned against the  
wall and placed his feet in Aragorn's lap. Aragorn held the bowl  
while Frodo ate. Once he got past the first sip, he ate rather  
voraciously.

"If you weren't hungry, then I have furry halfling feet," Aragorn  
said, placing the empty bowl on the floor.

"Thank you, Aragorn." Frodo closed his eyes, sighing in  
contentment. "I do feel much better."

Aragorn's hands absentmindedly ran over Frodo's left foot. What a  
fine, sturdy instrument! Frodo wore no shoes. The foot was rough and  
calloused, a contrast to the rest of Frodo's fragile body. Aragorn  
found it incredibly sexy. He rubbed his hands over the thick hair and  
the calloused bottom. Frodo let out a new sigh and opened his eyes.  
He smiled.

Aragorn bent down and kissed his toes, allowing his lips to linger.

"Be careful," Frodo whispered. "You don't know where those have been."

Aragorn nestled his cheek against the top of Frodo's foot. He let  
his hand run down from the foot down Frodo's leg under his trousers  
to the top of his thigh. Then he pulled his hand abruptly away. Frodo  
released a small gasp.

"Aragorn," he whispered, his eyes huge. "You must not tease."

Aragorn felt a violent tightening in his groin. He wanted Frodo--  
every part of him. He wanted to crush the small body under his and  
enter the tight heat of his body and thrust until the throb inside  
him burst. And even upon fulfillment, he would want to clutch Frodo  
to him, desperate that they never part. Frodo was willing. But it had  
not been long since his injury. The Sorn flower was powerful  
medicine, but Frodo needed to rest, with no stress to his body, in  
order for its effectiveness to be guaranteed. Aragorn squeezed his  
eyes closed. He must be patient. If he accidentally hurt Frodo or  
brought back the bleeding, he could never forgive himself.

"Oh, Frodo," Aragorn said. "We must stop."

"No," Frodo whispered. "Please, Aragorn."

Aragorn allowed his hands to sink into the silky mass of curls on  
Frodo's head.

"You need your rest. Much as it pains me to say it. We'll see how  
you are tomorrow. Perhaps then--ah, my sweet Frodo. If you're doing  
well tomorrow, I have an activity in mind that I think you will  
enjoy. And I know I will enjoy it with you."

"Do you promise?" Frodo asked.

Aragorn gave Frodo a tender kiss. He could barely control himself. He  
would have to relieve the throb in his groin, perhaps after Frodo  
fell asleep. He lay beside Frodo on the bed, wondering how he would  
handle the whole night with Frodo in his arms and not go mad. There  
had been so many nights since leaving Bree with the hobbits when he  
had daydreamed about this very scenario. He had blocked the thoughts  
before; always the memory of Arwen had interrupted. Arwen was far  
from his mind now. Later he might stop and allow the shame to fully  
hit him. Now his mind was in a blissful fog. He loved Frodo. He  
wanted him. He had never loved and desired another person so deeply  
and purely in his life.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Frodo could not fall asleep. Despite the weak fire in the fireplace,  
he was cold and he had not undressed. He even still had his cloak on.  
He lay spooned against Aragorn, and Aragorn's muscled arms wrapped  
snuggly around Frodo's small frame, warming him. He heard the steady  
rhythm of Aragorn's breathing, but it was not the slow, calm breath  
of sleep. Something unyielding dug into the back of Frodo's legs.  
He squirmed, trying to get comfortable. WHen he realized what was  
poking him, his heart sped and a wave of tingling surged through his  
body. Aragorn's member was hard! His own member throbbed and came to  
life. He was far, far from sleep. He wished there was a subtle way  
to undress so that he could feel Aragorn's large hands over his bare  
skin. He squirmed again, making sure that his backside bumped  
Aragorn's hard member. Aragorn let out a barely audible gasp.

Frodo rolled over until he was facing Aragorn. He pressed against  
him, wrapping his small arms around Aragorn's neck until Aragorn's  
hardened member was between his thighs.

"Frodo," Aragorn whispered. "No. You must rest."

"I cannot sleep."

Aragorn peered at Frodo. The light of the full moon streamed in the  
window, and Frodo could see Aragorn's keen gaze as he checked him  
carefully for signs of illness.

"I feel so much better," Frodo said. "Really. Please, Aragorn. Are  
you tired?"

Aragorn groaned.

"I cannot sleep with you beside me, Frodo."

"Then let us not sleep," Frodo said. "What about that game you  
promised?"

"What game?" Aragorn smiled.

"Aragorn!" Frodo's eyes twinkled. He sat up cross-legged on the bed,  
looking down at Aragorn's stubbled face.

Aragorn pushed past him and climbed out of the bed. He opened his  
backpack.

"Very well." He dug through the pack until he found what he was  
looking for. Frodo gave him a puzzled look as he placed a set of  
playing cards on the bed in front of him. He didn't know what he had  
expected, but this was not it. His member was still hard and he could  
see by the bulge in Aragorn's trousers that he had the same  
difficulty.

"I've seen playing cards before," Frodo said slowly. "Bilbo used to  
play a lot. He never taught me, though. It seemed rather silly to  
me."

"I don't think you'll find my game silly," Aragorn said,  
winking. "Actually the card game itself is one of the most  
simplistic. I've chosen something that doesn't take intelligence--  
just luck."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Frodo asked, keeping his voice  
light and teasing.

"No, Frodo. If I chose a game of intellect, I am certain you would  
beat me every time, and that would not be fun." He shuffled the  
cards. Frodo could tell by his flexible hand movements that he had  
spent much free time playing cards.

"We're going to play a little game called Twenty-One. The goal is  
for the total of your cards to equal 21. Yet--if you exceed 21, then  
you lose the game. So I give you two cards. Let's say they add up to  
15\. You may ask me for a third card in hopes that you will get a 6  
or less. I will give you a third card. You might get lucky, but  
then you might get something like a king, which equals ten, and then  
you lose the game. Now if you decide that you don't want to risk it,  
then you can keep the two cards that equal 15. But then I might get a  
hand that totals higher than 15 and thus win the game. Do you  
understand?"

"It seems very simple--and fast." Frodo looked at him, puzzled.

"Now, for the glitch. Each game you lose, you must remove an article  
of clothing."

"Oh," Frodo breathed. He blushed, imagining himself completely naked  
before Aragorn. The idea made him breathless.

"May I add a rule?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"Let's hear it," Aragorn said, sitting cross-legged on the bed across  
from Frodo.

"If I lose, YOU must remove my clothing. If you lose, I remove your  
clothing. And no skin contact."

"Frodo," Aragorn whispered. His eyes widened in surprise and  
fervor. "You are catching on. All right. I accept your rule. Let's  
begin."

Aragorn dealt the first round. Frodo's two cards added up to 17.  
Aragorn's added up to 20.

"Another," Frodo said, his heart pounding. Aragorn put a third card  
down in front of Frodo. It was a 6. Frodo looked at him  
beseechingly, but Aragorn smiled and cocked his eyebrow.

"You lose."

He reached for the buttons on Frodo's cloak. Frodo longed to pull  
Aragorn's hands to him and force them under his clothes. His body  
tingled, longing for rough hands over his skin. Aragorn's deft  
fingers unfastened the cloak and pulled it off of Frodo.

He dealt a new round. Frodo's total was 18, and this time he  
abstained, but Aragorn's total equaled 19.

"Oh, Frodo." Aragorn shook his head as if he much regretted what he  
had to do. He reached behind Frodo and pulled his jacket down over  
his shoulders. He gently pulled Frodo's arm out of the left sleeve  
and then out of the right sleeve, trying his best to only use the  
tips of his fingers thus to avoid as much contact with Frodo's skin  
as possible. He dropped the jacket on the floor, hesitating just a  
moment to breathe in Frodo's scent from it.

Aragorn won yet again the next round.

"This isn't fair," Frodo cried out. "You must have the cards rigged."

"This is a game merely of luck." Aragorn shook his head regretfully  
as he unbuttoned Frodo's vest. His face was only inches from Frodo's,  
and his breath was warm on Frodo's cheeks. It took every ounce of his  
willpower to avoid abandoning the game and grabbing Aragorn's shirt,  
pulling him on top of him. Frodo glanced down at the growing pile of  
his own clothing. The Ring, still safely in his vest pocket, was now  
off of him, and he felt his heart grow lighter.

The next round Frodo finally won.

Frodo smiled, his blue eyes shining. He began to unlace Aragorn's  
shirt, and before Aragorn could stop him, his hand darted inside  
Aragorn's shirt and squeezed his nipple.

Aragorn grabbed Frodo's wrist with lightning speed. His face looked  
fearsome and wild.

"You cheated."

"Yes." Frodo said. His blue eyes were wide and lustful. His cheeks  
felt warm.

"You should know better than to cheat a ranger."

Aragorn shoved Frodo on his back roughly. He ripped open Frodo's  
shirt, breaking several of the buttons. Frodo gasped as they  
scattered in different directions on the floor. Aragorn crouched over  
Frodo like a predator and roughly clamped his mouth over Frodo's.  
Frodo squirmed under his bruising kiss, gasping for breath. When  
Aragorn pulled back, his gray eyes still smoldered dangerously. He  
pulled Frodo back to a sitting position. Frodo's cheeks burned and  
his curls were mussed. Sweat had beaded on his forehead.

"That, my little friend, is the penalty for cheating."

"I should cheat more often," Frodo said demurely. He did not bother  
to button what few buttons were left on his shirt. He left the soft  
skin of his bare chest and belly exposed, tempting Aragorn to touch  
it.

Frodo lost the next round. Aragorn tried to keep his hands off of  
Frodo's shoulders as he pulled Frodo's shirt off, but Frodo hunched  
his shoulders, forcing Aragorn's hands to brush against the bare  
skin. Shivers reverberated through his body as the rough hands  
bumped against his soft skin. Aragorn's eyes glinted like steel.

"So that's the way you want to play it."

He ran his hands down Frodo's sides with brutal force until they were  
inside his trousers, grasping both of Frodo's hips. Frodo let out a  
small gasp. Aragorn's enormous hands traveled toward the front of  
Frodo's trousers. Frodo let in jagged breaths, anticipating the  
calloused hands over his member. But the touch never came. Aragorn  
cruelly yanked his hands out of Frodo's trousers. Still breathing  
hard, Frodo fully met his ardent gaze.

Aragorn lost the next round. Aragorn had spread his long legs on the  
bed. Frodo kneeled between his legs, working on the lacing to his  
trousers, taking his time, several times letting his fingers brush  
ever so slightly against Aragorn's very stiff member. He heard  
Aragorn gasp several times and saw his hands twitching, grasping his  
cloak which was still spread over the bed. Frodo knew that Aragorn  
was scarcely controlling an animal urge to throw him on the bed and  
have him right then. Frodo finished unlacing the trousers and pulled  
at them. With a lazy grin, Aragorn lifted his backside enough for  
Frodo to pull the trousers down past his hips. When the trousers  
were down to his knees, Frodo paused. He lay on his stomach, still in  
between Aragorn's legs, so that Aragorn's member was only an inch or  
so in front of his face. He allowed his tongue to dart quickly over  
the top of Aragorn's member. He jumped away from it, back on his  
knees, and pulled Aragorn's trousers the rest of the way off. Aragorn  
leaned back and groaned.

"Frodo..."

Frodo ignored him and threw his pants to the floor.

"I cannot wait," Aragorn grunted. "Please, Frodo. Do again what you  
just did."

"We're not done with the game," Frodo said. Aragorn tossed the cards  
violently off the bed. They scattered all over the floor.

"Now we're done." Aragorn grabbed Frodo's hips and yanked off his  
trousers. Frodo started to work on Aragorn's shirt, but Aragorn put a  
strong arm behind Frodo's head and forced him into a crushing kiss.

"Frodo, Frodo, Frodo," he whispered. "I can't stand it. I want every  
part of you."

"Lie down, Ranger," Frodo commanded. "Lie on your back."

********

Aragorn obeyed Frodo, scarcely able to keep from pulling Frodo down  
on top of him and crushing him in his embrace. Being with Frodo was  
not enough. Lying skin to skin was not enough. There would never be  
enough where Frodo was concerned. His longing for the halfling was a  
festering, unscratched itch. He had a brief vision of Arwen, far away  
in Rivendell, but he blocked the thought. He watched the silky mop of  
dark curls bend down at his groin. He felt Frodo's sweet breath over  
his member before a delicious, wet sensation tickled him. He  
surrendered, unable to hold back for a moment longer. His seed  
exploded over his belly, into Frodo's mouth, and onto the sheet  
beneath them.

"You couldn't wait," Frodo said accusingly. "I wasn't finished."

"Oh, Frodo," Aragorn gasped. "It won't be long. Meanwhile, I will  
take care of you."

Frodo smiled at him invitingly and crawled onto his chest.

"What must I do?"

"You are not new at this, are you?" Aragorn asked. He had had the  
impression that Shire hobbits were very sheltered, usually only  
participating in sexual relations when married.

"No," Frodo said with a secret smile. The idea that Frodo had been  
with anyone else was painful for Aragorn and he dropped the subject.  
He didn't want to know.

He ran his hands over Frodo's sweet, soft body. How he had dreamed of  
doing this! He had imagined what the hobbit's soft, pale skin would  
feel like under his hands. The reality far exceeded fantasy. Aragorn  
had never felt a more exquisite body. He could lose himself staring  
into those luminous blue eyes, running his huge hands over the small  
but masculine figure above him. Frodo's thick, hairy feet rubbed  
against his legs. He kneaded Frodo's backside, seeking his anal hole.  
He hardened again as he imagined himself thrusting into the tiny  
hole. Frodo groaned and allowed his head to fall back, exposing his  
pale neck. His pink lips were parted in pleasure, his cheeks were  
flushed, and sweet gasping moans came out of his mouth.

A loud rapping at the door startled both of them, and Aragorn, with  
one deft movement, flipped his cloak over their naked bodies.

"Who is it?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"It is Gandalf." His voice sounded tight. "Aragorn, a small band of  
soldiers has surrounded us. They do not recognize Boromir and they  
have taken my staff. They want you and Frodo to join us immediately.  
They hold us now at sword point."

Aragorn turned to meet Frodo's terrified eyes.

"Get dressed. And do not fear. While I am with you, nobody shall do  
you harm."

He let his hands rest on Frodo's cheeks before gently rolling the  
hobbit off his body. Despite his brave words, he worried about the  
men who had captured them. If they searched them and found the Ring,  
what would happen to the quest? And would they harm Frodo? Aragorn  
swallowed. He would not allow that to happen. He had sworn to protect  
him by life or death.

TBC  



	7. Chapter 7

Frodo and Aragorn dressed quickly, casting fearful glances at one  
another. Frodo trusted Aragorn with all his heart. Aragorn would not  
let the soldiers harm any of their company and he would not allow  
them to take the Ring. Frodo's body still reverberated from Aragorn's  
abrasive hands on his skin, but the sudden and intense fear had  
deflated his arousal. They had thought they had come to the hut to  
allow Frodo to heal in peace, but on this quest peace was not  
destined. Even if he completed his quest, it would be Arwen who was  
lucky enough to spend the rest of her days with Aragorn. Frodo would  
have to go home to the Shire with emptiness in his heart. The thought  
pierced Frodo's heart with as much cold and pain as the morgul  
blade. Frodo buttoned his vest over the wrinkled shirt that only had  
a few buttons on it.

His legs felt rubbery, and a roll of dull nausea clenched his  
abdomen. While safe in the hut, enjoying Aragorn's sweet  
ministrations, he had felt almost normal. Now the pinpricks in his  
stomach promised more thudding pain to come, causing beads of sweat  
to break on his face. He put his hand over his pocket. If the  
soldiers wanted to search him, they would find the Ring. He thought  
for a moment about leaving it hidden somewhere in the hut. But  
Gandalf had explained that the Ring was always trying to get back to  
Sauron, and he knew that if he left it out of his sight that it would  
be gone when he returned for it.

"Frodo, stay close to me," Aragorn said. Frodo nodded, swallowing as  
he followed Aragorn out of the hut. The soldiers had surrounded the  
rest of the company, holding them at sword point. The three other  
hobbits looked terrified. They clutched each other and kept their  
heads hidden. Twin looks of defiance were on the faces of Gimli and  
Boromir. Legolas looked cool, and only those who knew him well could  
see the pucker of worry over his brows. The soldiers did not wear the  
armor of Gondor. If they did, they surely would have known Boromir.  
So who else had a town large enough to warrant an army? Frodo tried  
to remember everything he had learned from Bilbo, but he was drawing  
a blank.

The soldiers tensed as Frodo and Aragorn approached. Before Frodo  
could react, one of them had grabbed him by the shoulder and flung  
him into the crowd of his friends. He had no strength in his legs  
and he would have fallen on his face had Boromir's strong arms not  
caught him.

"Okay?" Boromir whispered. Frodo nodded. Boromir kept his hand over  
Frodo's shoulder in a protective manner.

"Here's the deal," one of the soldiers said. "I am Menos of the Army  
of the Sea. We have been hired to seek out a group of bandits who  
have been robbing surrounding villages. This group is described as  
consisting of a few dwarves and a few men, one of which is elderly."  
He glanced at Gandalf with disdain. "You do not fit the description  
exactly, since I can't believe nobody would have mentioned an elf.  
And even we in our remote location know the difference between  
halflings and dwarves. Still, you people come the closest to meeting  
the description."

"You are sorely mistaken," Aragorn said. Frodo shivered at the  
danger in his low voice. He would not want to be on the receiving end  
when Aragorn spoke in such a manner. "We are not bandits. We have  
been sent on a mission, which is bound to secrecy, by Elrond  
Halfelven himself of Rivendell. If you hinder this, you will be  
responsible for bringing to the world a second darkness. In our midst  
we have the son of the Steward of Gondor, a prince of the elves of  
Mirkwood--"

"And an heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said in a soft voice.

"Stand up!" The soldier Menos yanked Aragorn before him. The company  
had been stripped of their weapons, which lay in a pile out of reach.  
Frodo tensed, his heart thudding in his ears. He couldn't watch them  
hurt Aragorn. He prepared to dash to Aragorn's aid if he needed to.

Aragorn kept his face calm, his gray eyes steady on his opponent. He  
looked noble and brave. Frodo's heart swelled as he looked at him.  
Nobody deserved the kingship more. These soldiers should be on their  
knees before him!

"Here's what I think of the king of Gondor." The soldier took the  
hilt of his sword and hit Aragorn across the face. Frodo watched in  
horror as droplets of blood spewed from Aragorn's nose. He hadn't  
even cried out. Frodo rushed at the soldier. He knew he would be  
ineffective against him, but he slammed his body into the soldier's,  
hoping for the element of surprise. The soldier was knocked off  
balance but he did not fall. He turned to the halfling in a fury.

"Frodo!" Aragorn shouted hoarsely. He staggered, a dull glaze in his  
eyes. Frodo watched him collapse to the ground unconcious.

"Frodo, come back," Sam called out, his voice weedy with fear.

The soldier wiped his mouth and then struck Frodo hard across the  
face with the back of his hand. The force knocked Frodo on his back.  
He had only a brief, shocked moment to hold his hand to where the  
blow had landed. Nobody had ever hit him. Before he could wallow for  
too long in that idea, a heavy boot slammed into his stomach, pinning  
him to the ground. Frodo cried out, involuntary tears springing to  
his eyes. The pain from his injury exploded into fiery hammers.

"Easy!" he heard Boromir yell out. "Easy! He's injured!"

"Well, then, that wasn't very bright, little one. Don't you know  
better than to attack a soldier? In our dungeons, I don't anticipate  
that you would last very long. So while we sort out this situation in  
which I am trying to be fair, I would suggest you just stay quiet and  
unobtrusive like your other little friends. Do you understand?"

Frodo could not answer. The pain was spiraling up his chest,  
threatening to spew out of his throat.

The boot slammed into him again.

"I said--do you understand?"

"Yes." Frodo managed. Black dots fluttered in front of his  
eyes. "Please..."

The soldier stepped away from him in disgust. As if from a distance,  
Frodo heard him call out orders to the others. Frodo rolled over on  
his side, barely able to breathe. He heard a distant whistling sound  
and realized that it was the sound of his wheezing. None of his  
friends could come to him. Aragorn was still unconscious and his  
other friends were surrounded by armed soldiers.

Frodo coughed, shuddering in agony. He held his hand over his mouth.  
Something wet sprayed over his hand and Frodo looked at it in numb  
shock. Blood. He had coughed up blood. He shuddered again, rolling  
over on his back.

Aragorn's eyes fluttered open.

"Frodo," he whispered. "Oh, God, Frodo. What did they do to you?"

He crawled to Frodo. Frodo looked up at him and managed a smile.

"Aragorn..."

"They took my pack with the Sorn flower needed to heal you. Hey!"  
Aragorn turned to the soldier. "Are you the commander of this army?"

"Yes I am."

"Hand me my pack. There are no weapons inside and I need an herb  
inside to treat this halfling. He's very ill."

"You take that insolent tone with me again, bandit, and I will hurt  
your little friend more. Understand?"

The soldier knelt beside them, chuckling in scorn as he met Frodo's  
watery blue eyes. He pinched his cheek.

"You are certainly beautiful, little one. It was a mistake on my part  
to do damage to you. I may want to use you later tonight for my own  
pleasure." Frodo whimpered, shaking all over. If this repulsive man  
put his hands on him, he would wish for death. Aragorn wouldn't let  
it happen. Despite Aragorn being unarmed, Frodo had faith that  
somehow Aragorn would take care of this problem. "Oh, don't weep,  
halfling. I know you're not as innocent as you try to appear. I saw  
what you and your human friend were doing in the hut earlier. I won't  
draw it out so long for you."

Aragorn rammed into the soldier from the side, knocking him to his  
back. Frodo could not move. He watched in terror as the two men  
tumbled in the dirt. Aragorn managed a few harsh blows before a dozen  
soldiers held him at sword point. Frodo heard a struggle from where  
his friends were. He clung to his fading consciousness. He was not  
going to go down without a struggle. If only he hadn't gotten hurt!  
If he were healthy, he would consider putting on the Ring to escape  
the soldiers and then secretly freeing them after dark, much like  
Bilbo had done when his dwarf friends had been held prisoner by the  
Mirkwood elves. But there was no way Frodo could crawl, much less  
walk anywhere.

A blinding flash of light made him cry out in pain and surprise. He  
heard cries of fear and trampling feet. A searing fresh agony gripped  
his stomach and he was sucked into a whirlpool of miserable, fiery  
pain. Everything darkened and he heard no more.

****

Aragorn sat, feeling the steel of four swords at his throat and  
chest. He couldn't give up. They couldn't be taken this easily. He  
would die before he allowed Frodo to be tortured and spoiled by these  
brutes. He sat perfectly still, looking for a way out, seeking a  
loophole. Frodo lay not too far from him. His eyes stared upward in a  
glaze of pain. Less than an hour before, the color had come back to  
Frodo's cheeks, his blue eyes had been bright with lust and joy, and  
he had not seemed to be in pain. Now he lay gasping on the ground,  
coughing up blood. Aragorn blamed himself. He had to do something.  
He would not let Frodo down.

An explosion of bright white light socked the breath out of him, and  
he was knocked to his back, staring up at the starry sky. He was  
blind. It wasn't the stars of the sky he was seeing--it was twinkling  
white lights. Around him, men cried out in terror and stumbled over  
each other, terrified and trying to get away.

"Frodo," Aragorn whispered, blindly crawling in the direction he knew  
him to be. "Frodo!"

Frodo did not answer. Aragorn's vision slowly returned. He gazed  
down at Frodo's pale, clammy face. Trembling, he brushed his fingers  
on Frodo's neck. Waves of relief crashed over him as he felt the  
rapid, weak pulse under his fingers.

When his vision returned, he saw that the soldiers had scattered.  
Gandalf was shaking his head and muttering, his staff in his hand.  
Aragorn bowed his head, grateful beyond belief that Gandalf was with  
them and that he had somehow managed to retrieve his staff. Aragorn  
himself had failed. He had failed to protect the company and he had  
failed to keep Frodo from harm. The other hobbits ran to Frodo.

"Did they hurt him?" Pippin cried out, falling to his knees beside  
him. Merry looked down with tears in his eyes.

"Frodo," Sam said, bowing his head and trying not to cry. "Why are  
men such brutes?"

"Not all men," Aragorn said.

"I meant no disrespect to you, sir," Sam said. "But since leaving the  
Shire, I've seen more violence in the outside world than in all my  
lifetime in the Shire. There wasn't no need to hurt Mr. Frodo like  
that."

"No there wasn't," Aragorn said, cradling Frodo in his arms and  
lifting him. "Sam, I am going to carry Frodo back to the hut. COuld  
you please bring me my pack?"

Sam ran quickly to find Aragorn's pack. Merry and Pippin started to  
follow Aragorn, but he shook his head.

"Please go back to the campsite. There isn't enough room for all of  
us, and Frodo's going to be in terrible pain when he wakes. He  
probably won't recognize you."

Aragorn placed Frodo back on the bed. Just an hour or so ago, he and  
Frodo had been on the bed, pleasuring each other and laughing in  
joy. Now Frodo groaned, his eyes fluttering in pain. Aragorn kept  
his hand over Frodo's forehead, willing tears away. Frodo had to  
live. There was no choice in the matter. But his dark, realistic  
side, who had practiced healing for so long, understood that it would  
take a miracle for Frodo to live now. He needed to be in a clean  
healing house with plenty of the herbs he needed.

"But hobbits are surprisingly resilient," he thought. He had to keep  
that thought in his mind. He had to believe that Frodo possessed the  
strength to recover beyond all odds.

The door opened, and he expected Sam. It was Gandalf. He handed  
Aragorn's pack to him.

"This is a grievous blow," Gandalf said, looking down at Frodo in  
compassion. "It seemed he was beginning to mend before we were  
attacked."

"Yes," Aragorn said, raw pain in his voice. "Now I will do my best  
to heal him again. He will mend again, Gandalf. He's strong."

"Aragorn," Gandalf said softly. "Be honest with me. What are your  
feelings for the hobbit?"

Aragorn sorted through his pack until he found the Sorn flower. He  
crushed it in his fingers. He needed to wake Frodo up to make him  
chew it. He needed immediate damage control or Frodo could bleed out  
in hours.

"My feelings?" he said faintly. How could he describe to Gandalf the  
blinding passion that overcame him whenever he touched Frodo, his  
need to possess him, and his wish to forsake everything in his life  
to be with him?

"And what of the lady Arwen?" Gandalf asked gently.

Aragorn closed his eyes, not wanting to confront the issue.

"I love her. I cannot forsake her."

"No," Gandalf said. "Elrond's daughter has given up immortality to  
be with you. To forsake her is to cause her death."

Aragorn looked down at Frodo's shallow breathing, avoiding Gandalf's  
eyes and clutching Frodo's cold hand.

"I know."

"Yet in pursuing your feelings for Frodo, you set yourself and him up  
for heartache. You cannot take Frodo with you to Gondor when you  
reclaim your throne. I don't want to see either of you hurt."

Aragorn finally looked at his friend. He was glad Frodo could not  
hear the conversation. What he was about to say would break his  
heart. But it would ease Gandalf's worry.

"You are right, Gandalf. It was foolish of me to give into passion.  
Frodo loves me and I knew it would make him happy if I returned it.  
He is the ringbearer, after all. I have given my heart to Arwen. I  
will marry her when the kingdom is mine again. Frodo, with all our  
blessings on him, will return to the Shire in honor and will  
hopefully find a hobbit maiden he can marry and live out his life in  
contentment."

Frodo appeared to be breathing very rapidly. Aragorn put his hand  
over the clammy brow in concern. He only half believed what he had  
just said to Gandalf--especially what he had said about only  
returning Frodo's affection out of obligation to keep the ringbearer  
happy. Frodo had just as much a hold on him as the other way around.  
Just the feel of Frodo's dear, soft skin under his hand made him burn  
for him again. He had wanted Frodo with all his being. He still did.

"Frodo," he said softly. "I need you to wake up now. I need you take  
more medicine for me."

Frodo's eyes opened, and Aragorn saw more hurt and pain in their  
depths than he had ever seen.

"I was not asleep," he said. His bottom lip trembled, but he bit it,  
desperate to control his emotion.

Aragorn and Gandalf looked at each other.

"Please," Frodo said, shaking with pain but trying desperately to  
keep his voice steady. "Gandalf, will you please stay with me? I  
cannot bear...Aragorn you must leave me right now."

Gandalf took the Sorn flower from Aragorn's hand and forced the  
hobbit to chew it. He looked back at Aragorn in raw apology, sorry  
that he had brought up the issue in front of Frodo.

"Frodo," Aragorn whispered. "I didn't mean what I said."

He felt a heavy weight inside his stomach as if he had been whacked  
in the abdomen with a sword again and again. Frodo turned his face  
from him. He watched Gandalf rub the hobbit's small hand, trying to  
warm it. Aragorn cursed himself for speaking so foolishly in front of  
the hobbit. He had done nothing but cause him fresh pain. Frodo had  
needed his love more than ever, and Aragorn had brutally taken it  
from him. Aragorn left the hut, burning with shame. He had to go  
somewhere private to think.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Cold darkness pressed in from every direction. The pain was gone  
because he floated above it. He was clutching the side of a cliff.  
The fellowship leaned over, calling to him, begging him to make an  
effort to climb. It was too painful. It would be much easier to let  
go. He would fall through crisp, clean air, and at the bottom, he  
would be released from the gasping effort it took just to fill his  
lungs. He looked at the faces peering at him with desperate  
concern, but he did not see Aragorn.

He shuddered. He had fallen off the cliff, but instead of finding  
relief, he had slammed into a pit of razor sharp rocks. He had never  
realized that so much pain was possible.

"Fading...think he's bleeding heavily...get Aragorn--fast!" If  
Gandalf was shouting, then it was bad. He didn't think he had much  
longer to live. Tears ran down his cheeks. Oh, how he wished he and  
Aragorn had finished what they had started. If he hadn't heard  
Aragorn say what he said to Gandalf, then he could still die happy.  
The card game had been his last good memory. He groaned, too weary to  
call out the name he really wanted, knowing he would be rejected.  
Aragorn didn't want him. Aragorn had never loved him. He had just  
indulged a stupid hobbit crush. Aragorn had only kissed Frodo to  
give him comfort, out of obligation. Fiery claws ripped his stomach  
apart and he threw back his head and yelled.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam's voice came out in a sob. "All those bruises on his  
sweet, dear body."

"Hold him still..." Aragorn's voice. It was cold and clinical, devoid  
of emotion. Two strong hands held his arms.

"No," Frodo gasped, trying to struggle out of his grip. He caught the  
snatches of what was obviously a continuation of an argument.

"He won't survive it," Gandalf said roughly.

"I don't see any choice," Aragorn answered in a furious tone. "If I  
don't try, he'll be dead in hours. Possibly sooner. He's losing  
blood at an alarming rate. The Sorn flower is helping, but it's not  
stopping the bleeding. Damn those brutes. I'd snap all their necks  
if I could get my hands on them now."

"Aragorn," Gandalf said in a grief-stricken voice. "What shall  
become of the quest if the ringbearer dies?"

Aragorn breathed in and out as if trying to prevent tears. Frodo  
knew better than to read too much into Aragorn's tears. If nothing  
else, they had been friends and travel companions. Aragorn could  
easily be grieving because his dear friend was gravely injured. Or  
because the quest would fail.

"I do not know." Aragorn's voice sounded muffled. "He is the only one  
I would trust with it."

"We must think seriously about this. Even under the best of  
circumstances, this method of surgery has a high risk of blood loss  
and shock. And Frodo is already very weak."

"I know." Aragorn was silent for awhile and then he spoke  
again. "Gandalf, get Boromir. I hesitate to have him near Frodo, but  
in this I deem it necessary. I need a strong man to hold Frodo down.  
You, Gandalf, I want to hold his feet down. We have very little to  
ease his pain. Is there any miruvor left?"

"I gave the last bit to him," Gandalf said. Frodo stared at the  
ceiling and wished for death. He did not care about the quest, he did  
not care about his friends, he was too weary to analyze Aragorn's  
feelings for him.

****

Aragorn looked down at the halfling, his heart heavy. He had been  
sitting under a tree beside a creek trying to sort through  
everything. He loved Frodo. He was the only person, place, or thing  
that could cause Aragorn to give up his destiny. Was it right?  
Right or not, he had to make a decision and take a stand. What he  
had said to Gandalf in front of Frodo had been cowardly. He had been  
afraid of the wizard's opinion. He had been afraid of word getting  
back to Elrond, to Arwen. He had failed to consider the fragile  
feelings of the one most dear to him.

He could not have it both ways. Either he broke Frodo's heart--as he  
already had--and kept his honor to Arwen, or he plunged into a  
relationship with Frodo, genuinely and with no guilt. Either way, he  
needed to take a stand and stick with it. He could not tease Frodo's  
heart and then back away. He could not be a man of honor to Arwen and  
pursue his relationship with Frodo.

"Strider!"

He jerked his head up to find Sam running to him, shouting that Mr.  
Frodo was bad off, that he had to come right away.

Now Frodo would probably die, and he would send him into the next  
world with so much pain.

"Boromir, I want you to kneel on the bed and hold Frodo's upper arms.  
No matter how much he yells or struggles, you need to hold him firm.  
If he moves around while I'm cutting, it could kill him. Understand?"

Boromir nodded. He looked pale with concern. There didn't seem to be  
a sign of the sly gleam Aragorn had seen several days earlier in his  
eyes. He looked down at Frodo in genuine grief.

"Aragorn, is there nothing we can give him for the pain?"

"No," Aragorn said shortly. He had sterilized the knife by lighting a  
fire to it. He lifted Frodo's clothing so that his abdomen was fully  
open. His heart sank as he remembered the last time he had put his  
hands under Frodo's clothing. He blinked, again shocked by the ugly  
markings on his abdomen.

Just give me a second chance, he thought. I will not hurt him again.

He swallowed before he sank the knife into Frodo's soft skin. He  
could barely hold the knife steady as Frodo bucked and yelled,  
moaning like a dying animal. He writhed and shuddered, but Boromir  
and Gandalf held him down. His blue eyes focused dully on Aragorn,  
and he finally lost consciousness.

"You told the other hobbits to wait by the campsite, didn't you?"  
Aragorn asked Gandalf.

"Yes. They should not witness this."

"I'm cutting into where I think the damage is and I'm going to sew it  
up. It should be quick. The longer he stays unconscious, the better."

"Can he survive this?" Boromir asked. Aragorn did not answer.

So much blood. Frodo seemed to be losing so much blood. It had  
always seemed like that to Aragorn when he had done similar surgeries  
in the past. But never on someone he had loved so dearly. Every  
trickle of blood was vital and Aragorn didn't want him to lose even  
another drop.

"Well," Aragorn said after he sewed up the little incision. He  
cleaned it with athelas water and bound it up with white cloth. "He  
has survived it so far, but now we must pray he does not get an  
infection."

Gandalf closed his eyes in relief.

Frodo woke later in the day. Aragorn was sitting beside his bed.  
Frodo did not acknowledge him. He looked at the ceiling.

"How do you feel, Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

"As expected. Sore, but otherwise much better, thank you."

"Frodo," Aragorn said with a smile. "I sewed the buttons back on your  
shirt."

Frodo kept his face turned away from Aragorn. He was so pale. He was  
so fragile that a single touch could cause him to break into  
thousands of pieces.

"Thank you. I don't suppose I'll lose them again."

Aragorn moved his stool closer to the bed.

"Frodo, please look at me."

Frodo slowly turned his face. His blue eyes were gentle but full of  
mistrust. Dark circles were under his eyes. Aragorn longed to see  
forgiveness, to see the teasing joy that had been in his face the day  
of the card game. That he had survived the surgery seemed like a  
miracle to him.

"I love you," Aragorn whispered, taking his hand.

"You don't have to keep lying to make me feel better. In fact, I  
prefer it if you didn't."

Frodo's voice was weary and he seemed on the verge of weak tears.  
Aragorn looked down at him.

"No, no." Aragorn closed his eyes. "What I told Gandalf--Frodo, I  
know I deserve you to freeze up on me. I deserve it. But it doesn't  
make it hurt less. I hurt you, though, and I deserve it. I never  
want to hurt you again. I only meant to say that what I told Gandalf  
was to appease him, to make him drop the subject so that he did not  
worry about us."

"Why would he worry?"

"He worries that we're destined for heartbreak. All I know, Frodo,  
is that when I thought you might die--that was heartbreak. Nothing  
else mattered." Frodo's large blue eyes were grave as he watched  
him, waiting for him to continue. "I love you so much. I think I have  
since I laid eyes on you in Bree. I love Arwen, but she's not like  
us. You and I are much more alike. I had to make a choice, Frodo."

Frodo closed his eyes, and his long lashes delicately brushed the  
pale skin below his eyes.

"But you have already committed to Arwen. It hurts me to say it, but  
I cannot have you break your honor to her. I will respect that honor  
and I will bear it. I was hurt because you gave yourself to me; you  
made me believe you had feelings for me when in fact you were just  
indulging me--"

"No." Aragorn cupped Frodo's chin his large hands. He kissed Frodo's  
lips several times, grateful for the warmth in them. They were still  
pale, but life was returning to his face. He ran his hand gently over  
the black bruise that covered half of his face from where the soldier  
had hit him.

Frodo's small hands reached up and encircled his neck, pulling him  
into a rougher kiss. Aragorn forced himself only very reluctantly to  
pull back. He clasped Frodo's hand, kissing his palm several times.

"I do love you, Aragorn," Frodo said in a small voice.

Aragorn's heart hitched in gladness.

"Then today is the most joyous in my life. I don't deserve you--and  
I have you."

Frodo smiled back, and his eyes were lit up in joy again, just as  
Aragorn had wanted.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has non-con (no rape).

In his dream, Frodo sat by a stream in the Shire. Honeysuckles were  
in bloom, and birds flitted happily from tree to tree. The Ring had  
been destroyed. His heart was light and happy. He had no cares.

Heavy steps came from behind him, and he jumped to his feet in joy.

"Aragorn! You came!"

"How could I not?" Aragorn said with a wide smile. "I've been unable  
to think about anything except you."

The sun was bright and hot, and a persistent buzz of cicadas gave the  
afternoon a sleepy ambience. There was nobody for miles around.  
Aragorn sat, pulling Frodo into his lap. He lost no time. He kissed  
the top of Frodo's head before reaching inside the front of Frodo's  
trousers and wrapping his hand around Frodo's already hardened  
member. He stroked it up and down with rough jerks. Frodo gasped and  
bucked against him. Aragorn's other hand slipped under Frodo's layers-  
-Frodo realized he was still wearing his travel-worn shirt, vest, and  
jacket--and stroked his nipples. Frodo writhed in Aragorn's arms.

"Let me...let me get undressed," he gasped.

"No," Aragorn said, nuzzling his head into Frodo's hair. "It turns me  
on to have you fully clothed."

Frodo gasped for breath, his cheeks hot with desire. His seed  
exploded into Aragorn's hand. Aragorn lay him gently in the grass.  
He tugged Frodo's trousers just down enough to reveal his member.  
His hands deftly found Frodo's tiny hole. He wiped his finger in some  
of Frodo's seed and rubbed it around the hole.

Aragorn was inside him. Frodo had never felt such wonderful fullness.  
He had thought Aragorn's huge member would tear him apart, but he  
only felt throbbing ecstasy. Aragorn clutched Frodo's shirt and  
jacket and thrust again and again.

"Oh, Frodo, Frodo," Aragorn grunted, his face almost looking to be in  
pain. There was something strange about his voice. It didn't sound  
low and silky. There was a rough edge to it, something that reminded  
him of--

Frodo woke in his bed in the hut, and his eyes snapped open in  
horror. Boromir lay on top of him, kissing him all over his neck,  
stroking his body. In a panic, Frodo tried to shift under the weight,  
and his injured stomach protested, sending sheets of pain up his body.

"Boromir," he gasped, barely able to breathe. Boromir lay fully on  
him, rendering him unable to move.

"Frodo," Boromir said, kissing him on the lips. "Frodo, I can't live  
anymore without--"

"Boromir!" Frodo cried. "Get off me!"

"Little one, relax. Just relax." His tongue ran from the bottom of  
Frodo's neck, where his first shirt button was, up to his lips. He  
bit Frodo's soft bottom lip. "I promise I won't hurt you. But I must  
have you. I can't afford to wait until Aragorn throws you away, after  
he spoils you."

"No," Frodo said. He flushed, gasping with fear and anger. "Get off  
of me now or I will call out for help."

Where was Aragorn? He had promised to sit with him all night, in case  
complications developed from the surgery.

"Don't bother, Frodo. I have drugged their food so that they will  
sleep very soundly tonight."

"Why are you doing this?" Frodo said in a whimper. "Do you think you  
can force me to love you?"

Boromir's fingers gripped Frodo's shoulders with vice-like force.  
Frodo tried not to wince. He was not going to be able to reason with  
the warrior. Boromir was in the throes of uncontrollable lust. His  
whole body trembled.

"I see the way you look at Aragorn, how you long for him. I saw how  
he hurt you earlier and yet all he had to do to get you back is  
change his line a little. Does someone have to beat it over your  
head? He doesn't love you, Frodo. He is using you."

Frodo shook his head from side to side. "No, no, no," he said,  
closing his eyes.

"Believe me," Boromir continued. "It's not that he doesn't want you.  
Who wouldn't find you irrestible? But if you think he will drop that  
elf he loves for a naive halfling from the Shire, you are mistaken."

While he talked, his fingers dug painfully into Frodo's upper arms.  
He would be bruised later. He desperately tried to prevent tears  
from falling from his eyes. Was there a possibility that Boromir was  
right? Frodo felt cold at the thought.

"But I love you, Frodo. I want you. I want you to come with me to  
Minis Tirith. I want to take your burden from you. I will find a  
suite for you and you will live in luxury. You need not face more  
danger. And you will be a comfort for me when I come in from battle.  
I will love you fully and with all my heart. I will give you my full  
heart, not half, which is all you will get from Aragorn."

"Boromir," Frodo said in a shaking voice. "If you love me, please  
don't do this. Please don't hurt me."

Boromir's face turned red. He shook Frodo in frustrated rage and then  
pinned him hard against the mattress.

"So, when I do it, it is considered hurtful? Aragorn can do the same  
and you'd be crying out for more! Curse him and curse the  
stubbornness of halflings!"

"Boromir, I," Frodo couldn't keep his voice steady. "I...don't  
love...I don't love you. Please--"

He gasped for breath.

"Then," Boromir said. "It seems this will be my only chance to have  
you."

In an instant, Boromir had flipped Frodo onto his stomach. Frodo's  
face was pressed into the mattress. Harsh hands ripped his trousers  
down.

"No, no," Frodo whimpered. "Please stop, Boromir. Don't take me like  
this!"

"Is it not the only way I'll have you?" Boromir demanded, yanking  
Frodo's head up by his hair. Frodo stared back at Boromir, blue eyes  
wide in terror. He managed to squirm around so that he was on his  
back again. He hit Boromir in the face with his small fists, fighting  
with all his strength. He was weak from his injury and surgery, and  
even under the best of circumstances, Boromir was many times stronger  
than he was. Boromir grabbed his wrists, encircling both with just  
one of his large hands. He roughly shoved Frodo's arms above his head  
and fell down heavily on him, shoving his tongue in Frodo's mouth  
until Frodo gagged. Frodo tried to kick, but both of his legs were  
crushed under Boromir. Then Boromir shifted so that his weight was  
off of Frodo's legs but before Frodo could act, Boromir had flipped  
him onto his stomach again.

"Let's try this again," Boromir said in a gutteral voice.

"No! Stop!" Frodo cried, having no faith that anyone would come to  
help him. He pictured Aragorn, blissfully asleep under the influence  
of whatever Boromir had used to drug his food.

"Shut up!" Boromir's voice was merciless as he shook Frodo again, a  
violent contrast to the sweet concern in his voice during the surgery.

Boromir fumbled with his trousers. Frodo heard him grunting,  
fumbling with what he knew was a huge and fully aroused member. At  
the idea that the huge shaft would be thrust violently into his tiny  
body, Frodo struggled again. Boromir roughly yanked his hair, jerking  
his head up to face him again.

"Stay still! If you struggle, it's just going to be more painful."

Frodo felt a tugging from his stomach, where the surgery had been. He  
felt light-headed, unable to get in enough breath. He couldn't  
believe that this--upon everything else he had been through--was  
about to happen to him.

Boromir's huge hands yanked Frodo's buttocks apart. He placed the tip  
of his member on Frodo's tiny opening. He paused, wrapping his arms  
around Frodo's torso and hugging him close, breathing in the scent of  
Frodo's silky curls.

"Oh God, I can't stand this," Boromir breathed as if in a trance. "I  
need you now. If I don't, I shall go mad."

His hands crept down Frodo's chest and hesitated on Frodo's stomach.  
Boromir suddenly pulled back as if he had been burned. Frodo lay  
completely still, afraid to move, for fear Boromir would take it as a  
sign to continue. After awhile, Frodo dared to peer at Boromir.  
Boromir was staring at his hands in horror. They were covered in  
blood.

Frodo reached down to feel his stomach. His white shirt was soaked  
with blood.

"Frodo," Boromir whispered hoarsely. His face looked naked with pain  
and guilt. "Frodo, I don't know...I don't know what happened to me.  
It's...I should go from you, from the whole company. It's the Ring. I  
can't resist its call. God, you're bleeding. I'm so sorry. I will  
wake Aragorn."

Boromir ran from the hut. Frodo pulled up his trousers. His hands  
trembled from shock. Whatever Boromir was going to tell Aragorn,  
Frodo had no desire for him to see him in such a humiliating position.

****

Boromir had shouted his name several times, but Aragorn had not been  
able to move. His limbs felt sluggish. What was wrong with him. Was  
he ill? He finally he forced his eyes open and stared into Boromir's  
frightened, yet somehow cagey eyes.

"Frodo's bleeding," he said. "You've got to come."

Aragorn was confused. He could have sworn he had been sitting in  
Frodo's room before he had fallen asleep. He had promised Frodo he  
would stay with him. What was he doing outside on the ground? He  
followed Boromir, feeling like he was walking through a thick fog.

Frodo was curled up in the bed. He had pressed a sheet against his  
wound, and already a section had become soaked with blood. Aragorn  
stared at him, helpless by his blurry-eyed fatigue. Frodo lifted his  
arm to Aragorn, showing him how his shirt sleeves were soaked with  
blood. His huge blue eyes were watery with fear and pain.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, feeling a little more focused. "Boil some  
water. I'm going to have to restitch the wound."

Aragorn bent over Frodo. He kissed his forehead.

"Don't be frightened, little one. I need to get your shirt off you."  
He unbuttoned the shirt and helped it off him. He paused, lips  
parted in shock, when he saw Frodo's arms. There were bruises  
everywhere--on his upper arms, where Boromir had dug his fingers, on  
his wrists, where Boromir had grabbed them after Frodo tried to fight  
him.

"What happened here, Frodo?" Aragorn asked quietly. He blinked,  
trying to clear the fog from his vision. Despite the urgency of the  
situation, he had a desire to fall back asleep. He felt like he had  
when he had gotten cut in a sword fight and he had been given a pain  
killer that had rendered him sleepy for days.

"Nothing," Frodo said, but he turned away, clearly trying to keep  
tears from escaping his eyes.

Aragorn tended to the wound, washing it clean of the blood and  
preparing the needle and thread to stitch again. His thoughts  
frightened him. If Boromir had drugged them in order to take Frodo  
and perhaps the Ring, then he needed to be dealt with immediately. He  
needed to be sent on his way.

"Frodo," Aragorn said in a harsh voice. He gripped Frodo's chin and  
yanked it so that he was forced to look at Aragorn. "I need you to  
be honest with me. What happened in here with Boromir?"

Frodo looked fearfully at the door.

"I won't allow him to hurt you," Aragorn said. "Now speak up. What  
happened?"

"He...he," Frodo's chin shook, and Aragorn let go of it long enough  
to stroke his cheek in a soothing manner. "He tried to...Aragorn, he  
wanted to...oh, I'm so ashamed!"

"What?" Aragorn asked in a much softer voice. "Did he attack you?"

Frodo did not answer. He closed his eyes, trembling all over.  
Aragorn's hand gripped Frodo's chin again, and his fingers dug deep  
into the soft, creamy skin. Aragorn could barely stand to ask the  
next question.

"Did he...did he rape you?"

Frodo shook his head, still keeping his eyes closed. Aragorn let out  
a huge sigh of relief. Then his eyes hardened.

"I will take care of him. He will never bother you again."

"He came to his senses when he saw the blood," Frodo gasped. "Oh,  
Aragorn, he didn't mean it. It's the wicked Ring. I can't imagine  
why, but he is in love with me. The Ring has twisted his feelings for  
me. It acts on him. Please don't harm him."

Aragorn's expression softened as he looked at the sweet, trembling  
halfling. How could he not know why Boromir might be in love with  
him? Aragorn sewed up the wound, trying to go quickly as not to  
prolong the pain for Frodo. Boromir entered with the boiling water,  
and Aragorn put in a few athelas leaves. There were very few left in  
his stash. Aragorn gave no indication to Boromir that he knew what  
had happened.

"Thank you, Boromir," Aragorn said as he washed Frodo's wound. "I  
will stay with him the rest of the night. You take over the watch."

Boromir left the hut, not meeting his eyes. Aragorn felt a flash of  
rage and he barely restrained himself from running after him with his  
sword drawn. His protection instinct was too riled by what Boromir  
had done to Frodo to be able to give him any compassion. He would  
need to be dealt with. He had been warned to stay away from Frodo.  
Whether or not it was his fault, he was dangerous to Frodo while the  
Ring called to him. It pained Aragorn to take drastic measures with  
the son of the Steward of Gondor, but something had to be done.

"You're not going to get away with just sitting on that chair," Frodo  
said, a soft smile over his face. His eyes were still puffy from the  
tears, but he looked more relaxed. "I'm much too shaken up to sleep."

"Frodo, if I sleep with you, I'm going to be unable to keep my hands  
from you, and I will not be responsible for opening up your wound  
again."

"So be it," Frodo said with an innocent smile. "We will be careful  
of my stomach. And if it opens again, you can fix it again."

"You sly halfling," Aragorn said with a teasing smile. "You know I  
can't resist when you look at me like that. All right. Leave room  
for me in the bed. I'm going to get undressed."

TBC  



	10. Chapter 10

Frodo smiled, truly content. A few hours had passed since his  
experience with Boromir. In Aragorn's arms, he felt protected and  
safe. Aragorn opened his eyes, responding to Frodo's restless  
shifting.

"What are you smiling about, little hobbit?" Aragorn asked, stroking  
Frodo's dark curls out of his face.

"You."

"What about me?"

Frodo turned so that he faced Aragorn. He wrapped his small arms  
around Aragorn's neck. He reached up and planted a soft kiss on his  
lips. His stomach protested the movement, and he winced.

"Careful, Frodo," Aragorn whispered. He kissed Frodo's hands and  
then turned them over to kiss his palms. "I want you in my life for  
a long time."

Aragorn rubbed Frodo's arms through his blood-stained sleeves. He  
then slipped his hands under his shirt and rubbed his back in small  
circles. His callused hands sent waves of tingling pleasure through  
Frodo's body. His member swelled in response.

Outside, the sun had begun to rise, leaving a faint golden hue over  
the outside trees. It reminded him of the pleasant dream he had been  
having before he had awakened to the horror of Boromir being on top  
of him.

Aragorn clutched him closer, rubbing his own body against Frodo's  
stiff member as he continued to stroke the hobbit's back. Frodo felt  
something hard jab him in the thigh and knew that Aragorn was just as  
aroused as he was. Aragorn kissed his forehead, each of his cheeks,  
his nose, and last, his lips.

"Aragorn," Frodo gasped. "Can we…do you think that we could go  
outside?"

"Outside?" Aragorn looked at Frodo, puzzled.

"I want you," Frodo said, his lips parting in desire. "I've wanted  
you since…well, Bree. It was all I could think about while I was ill  
with the Morgul blade. It was all that kept me from the shadows was  
the thought that you were on the side of light. The first time with  
you…I want it to be special. Not here in this bed where I've been ill  
and where--" He got an image of Boromir's dark anger as he had  
flipped Frodo on his stomach and ripped his pants down. He shivered.  
He did not want his first time with Aragorn to be in the same bed.

"Frodo?" Aragorn touched his face in concern.

"No, I'm okay," Frodo said quietly. He blushed, hoping he hadn't  
said too much. Aragorn responded by giving him a crushing kiss on  
his lips. He pulled back and stroked Frodo's soft cheek.

"Very well, Frodo. You shall have me and you shall have me outside.  
I know of a clearing not too far from here."

Frodo followed Aragorn out of bed, but as soon as he stepped to the  
floor, his legs would not hold him, and he collapsed to his knees.  
He looked up, his throat tightening. Aragorn would not let him leave  
the hut now. He would make him get back in bed. He cursed the fall  
that had caused the injury. He wanted Aragorn today, now. He would  
burst if he did not have him. He simply would not allow Aragorn to  
delay because of his injury.

But instead, Aragorn picked him gently up and kissed him again all  
over his face. Still carrying Frodo, he walked out of the hut and  
into the woods. After nearly a twenty-minute walk, they reached a  
clearing with soft grass and wildflowers scattered around. Birds  
called to one another. Frodo again thought about his dream, and his  
arousal became unbearably painful. Aragorn set him on the soft grass.

"How do you feel?" he asked, brushing his fingers over Frodo's  
stomach.

Frodo's stomach ached and pinched, but being outside with Aragorn,  
miles from anyone, was a much more dominant emotion. He lay his head  
back into the grass and said, "Wonderful."

****

  
Aragorn lay on Frodo, leaning his weight on his elbows, careful not  
to press down on Frodo's stomach. He tried to control his breathing,  
which was nearly impossible as he looked into those beautiful clear  
blue eyes. How was it possible to love and want someone so much?

"You've wanted me for so long--but are you sure you can handle me?"

Frodo smiled, reaching up to stroke Aragorn's face.

"The question is, ranger, can you handle me? We hobbits may be small,  
but we are demanding."

"We shall find out."

Aragorn's hands trembled. He had wanted this for so very long. This  
time, they would finish. He prayed there would be no interruptions.  
His hands plunged into Frodo's silky curls and he brought his head  
down and kissed with hungry intensity. His lips ground into Frodo's,  
tasting the sweetness. His tongue explored Frodo's perfectly shaped  
small mouth, and he felt Frodo's tiny tongue inside his own mouth.  
His member nearly exploded inside his pants. He wanted to take Frodo  
right now, to shove the throbbing, itching member into the hobbit's  
tight hole. He had to control himself. This had to be a pleasurable,  
unforgettable experience for both of them. He did not want Frodo in  
pain. He could not bear to hurt him. He wanted always to see the  
look of pleasure and joy on his sweet face. As it was, he feared to  
take the last step. He feared that he was too big and that no matter  
what preparations he made that he would still end up hurting the  
small halfling.

His right hand slipped under the layers of clothing Frodo had on. He  
stroked Frodo's side while continuing to explore Frodo's mouth with  
his tongue. He felt two small hands reach into his shirt and seek  
his nipples, which grew hard immediately.

Aragorn's hand slid into the back of Frodo's trousers and swept over  
Frodo's backside. He allowed his finger to stroke the small anal  
hole. Frodo gasped and writhed. Again, Aragorn had the dizzying  
desire to grab Frodo and squeeze him until they became merged  
together.

Aragorn stuck his finger in the hole and wriggled it. Frodo squirmed  
beneath him, letting out a small squeak. This made Aragorn's member  
throb with more desire. His breath came out in desperate gasps. He  
could not hold on much longer.

Aragorn smiled down at him, letting his finger slowly explore. His  
member was so swollen, so aroused.

"Relax, Frodo. You must relax."

"I know," Frodo breathed. His small hands slid down and worked on the  
lacing of Aragorn's trousers. Aragorn's gasps became loud moans.  
His control had waned. He was going to have to have Frodo now, damn  
the consequences.

He pulled Frodo's trousers down, not bothering to wait to get them  
all the way off. He rapidly slapped the oil on his member before  
easing it just inside the entrance to Frodo's hole. Frodo looked up  
at him, eyes bright with anticipation and fear.

"Is this okay?" Aragorn rasped. He did not trust himself to be able  
to pull back if it was not okay.

"Aragorn," Frodo gasped. "Please. I want you inside me. I want you  
inside me now!"

"I'm going to go slow," Aragorn said. "It's probably going to hurt at  
first. Any time you want to stop, just say the word. I'll stop."

If I can, he thought to himself, praying that the hobbit wouldn't  
tell him to stop. He had never felt so out of control.

Frodo leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Aragorn pushed  
inside. It was still too tight.

"Relax, Frodo."

Frodo let out a long breath and Aragorn was able to push further  
inside. The tight heat was glorious. Aragorn had never felt anything  
like it. He gripped Frodo's shoulders, still careful to keep his  
weight off his injury. He gave one mighty thrust. He was not  
completely in.

Frodo cried out in pain. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he groaned  
and bit his lip. He clutched Aragorn's shirt, still keeping his eyes  
tightly shut.

"Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

"Go on," Frodo gasped.

Aragorn thrust again. Frodo cried out again. His knuckles looked  
white. His face had paled.

"Shall I stop?" Aragorn asked in dismay. He did not want Frodo in  
pain. Maybe it was impossible. Maybe their size difference was too  
great. The idea pained him, but he would rather live without this  
final step all his life than hurt Frodo. There were other ways to  
pleasure.

"Try…try again," Frodo gasped, squirming under him. "It…it hurt the  
first time, even with a hobbit."

Aragorn tried one more time. If Frodo was still in pain this time, he  
would not finish. He would have Frodo relieve him in some alternate  
way.

This time Frodo's eyes snapped open. His watery eyes looked more  
surprised than pained.

"Again," he gasped, his pink lips parted. His skin was so milky  
white, a vivid contrast to his blue eyes and nearly black curls that  
stuck to his forehead in a sweaty mass.

Aragorn's thrusts picked up speed. He wrapped his large hand around  
Frodo's fully aroused member. He jerked it in rapid rhythm to his  
own thrusts. Frodo bucked his back and gasped, groaning in pleasure.

"Aragorn," he moaned. "Faster!"

Aragorn's free hand slipped under Frodo's blood-stained shirt and  
tweaked Frodo's nipples. He then stroked the soft skin, from his  
neck down his chest, and down his side. Frodo's gasps grew louder.

"Aragorn, I'm almost—"

Waves of pleasure crashed over Aragorn. His stroking hand gripped  
Frodo's shoulder, bunching his shirt. He thrust hard against the  
hobbit, no longer able to control himself. Even if Frodo had begged  
him to stop, he would not have been able to. He was actually inside  
this sweet, tight body that he found so dear. Frodo was his. Nothing  
else mattered. Frodo's seed splattered over Aragorn's hand, and that  
sent Aragorn over the edge. He felt massive amounts of his own seed  
surge into Frodo's body.

He collapsed on the ground, pulling Frodo on top of his chest. Both  
of them gasped for breath.

Finally, Frodo lifted his head, peering into Aragorn's eyes. Little  
pieces of grass were stuck in his mussed curls. He brought his small  
hands to Aragorn's cheeks.

"That was wonderful," Frodo said.

"Likewise," Aragorn said. "Are you hurt?" He reached down to feel  
between Frodo's legs. He stroked Frodo's inner thighs, causing Frodo  
to wriggle and gasp in new pleasure.

"I'm sore," Frodo said with a smile. "But it was worth it."

Aragorn pulled his hand away with a sigh. There was blood on his  
fingers.

"You're bleeding, Frodo. Let me soothe your hurts with water from the  
stream."

"No, Aragorn. Not now."

Frodo's deft little fingers were working on the lacing to Aragorn's  
shirt.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked. Frodo answered him with a kiss,  
ending it with biting Aragorn's lower lip. He pulled back.

"Did you think we were finished?" Frodo asked.

  
TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Aragorn sat in awe of the determined hobbit. He sat up in order to  
allow Frodo to pull his shirt over his head. He kicked off his  
boots, and Frodo crawled between his legs and labored to pull  
Aragorn's pants the rest of the way down his long legs. Soon  
Aragorn was completely naked in the grass. The sensation was  
glorious--nothing between his skin but the grass and Frodo.

Frodo crawled again between Aragorn's legs. He smiled shyly before  
bending his head down to Aragorn's member. Frodo's soft breath  
caused it to harden immediately. He had thought he was spent after  
their quick, violent pairing, but he groaned in new pleasure as  
Frodo's tongue lingered over his most sensitive area. Frodo pulled  
away.

"Not so fast," Aragorn said sternly. Taking advantage of his ranger  
skills, he grabbed Frodo by the shoulders before he could move out of  
reach. Frodo was in a kneeling position while Aragorn sat before  
him. While Frodo smiled, bemused, Aragorn yanked Frodo's jacket off,  
ripped open his vest, and tore off his suspenders. Aragorn placed  
his fingers on either side of Frodo's shirt, pausing a moment to look  
into Frodo's bright eyes.

"You thought you'd never lose your buttons again?" Aragorn asked in a  
hoarse voice before ripping the shirt open, causing buttons to fly in  
all directions. Frodo flushed with pleasure as Aragorn roughly took  
off the shirt and flung it in the pile. He yanked Frodo's trousers  
down.

"Lie down, hobbit," Aragorn commanded.

Frodo crossed his arms.

"I thought I was in control," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"You're not going to disobey the future king of Gondor, are you?  
Stubbornness will not be tolerated under my rule."

"And what if I do?" Frodo's eyes shone. Aragorn could barely rip his  
gaze from those intoxicating eyes. They sucked him in like mini  
whirlpools until he drowned in them and could no longer control  
himself. It was dangerous to love with such intensity. Yet he had to  
hold back because Frodo was so small. If he released the true storm  
of his feelings, he was certain he would crush the hobbit and  
brutalize him until he was a broken shell.

"I might have to torture you," Aragorn said. Already his breath was  
coming out again in jagged gasps. He grabbed Frodo's ankles with one  
hand and shoulder with the other hand and forced Frodo into a sitting  
position. Then he gently shoved him back so that Frodo was lying  
naked in the grass. Aragorn ran his hands over Frodo's hairy feet,  
kissing the hobbit's toes and the top of his feet. He immersed his  
face in the silky hair. His hand encircled Frodo's delicate ankle.

"If this is torture," Frodo murmured. "Then more people must want to  
cause trouble in Gondor than in any other place."

Aragorn's mouth ran along Frodo's feet—how he loved these sturdy  
hobbit feet!—and then up the sides of his calves. He kissed, moving  
up his inner thighs until he reached the dark purple bruising and  
abrasions. He gently licked the wounds. His chest felt suddenly  
heavy from guilt that he had caused these wounds on his delicate  
lover. He would not enter him again, even if Frodo begged. Even if  
his own body sang out for it.

"Frodo, Frodo," Aragorn gasped. "What shall I do with you?"

He avoided looking at the stitched wound on Frodo's stomach. If he  
looked carefully, his better nature would bid him take Frodo back to  
the hut. All this rolling around in nature would surely bring on an  
infection. He crawled until he was perched on his elbows and his  
face was inches over Frodo's. He spent a moment just taking in  
Frodo's innocent face, with the soft skin, the wide blue eyes and the  
soft smile. Aragorn planted more kisses over Frodo's soft neck.  
Frodo leaned back and moaned. His cheeks were still flushed.

"Aragorn, I love you."

"Do you?" Aragorn stopped and looked at Frodo sharply. He kneaded  
Frodo's shoulders. The faint white scar from the morgul blade marred  
his otherwise perfect skin there. Just below began the series of  
bruises from Boromir's rough treatment. Aragorn swallowed his anger.  
Now was not the time.

"Go on," Frodo gasped. "Take me again! I am ready. It won't hurt so  
much this time."

"You're bruised and sore."

"If you don't, I will not allow you to touch me at all."

"No! I won't do it again!" Aragorn said roughly.

Frodo squirmed angrily out of Aragorn's grip, reaching for his  
clothes. He threw on his shirt, angrily buttoning up what few  
buttons still existed.

"Frodo," Aragorn said in a softer voice. "You're injured and weak,  
and I'm much larger than you. You cannot deny it hurt. I cannot do  
it again in good conscience. I should not have done it today."

Frodo flushed. Aragorn had never seen him so angry. Hurt, yes. But  
never angry.

"Then I'm not sure we can do anything--ever. I don't want limits. I  
don't want you to feel sorry for me or treat me like I'm a delicate  
flower because of my size. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Aragorn pulled Frodo into his lap. He kissed Frodo's head and let  
his hands run down Frodo's sides. He then unbuttoned the shirt.

"I only know that I love you and can't stand to hurt you."

"Then don't deprive me of what you would do with…with others."

Frodo's voice sounded bitter. Aragorn twisted Frodo around so that  
they were face to face.

"Others?"

Frodo looked down, but Aragorn forced his chin up.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know," Frodo said. Tears filled his eyes. He tried to squirm  
out of Aragorn's grip, but Aragorn tightened his grip on Frodo's chin.

"Do you mean Arwen?"

Frodo nodded, looking miserable. Aragorn's stomach sank. No matter  
what his intentions, he couldn't seem to stop hurting Frodo. He had  
never loved anybody with such crushing passion, and as a result, he  
fumbled at every step.

Frodo trembled.

"Boromir, when he…when he attacked me, he was under the spell of the  
Ring, but he said that…" Tears oozed out of the corners of Frodo's  
eyes. Aragorn's chest tightened again. His lover was so obviously  
miserable, and he was the cause. He wanted anything but that.  
Helplessly, he wiped Frodo's tears away as they trickled down his  
cheeks.

"What did he say?" Aragorn asked, his voice coming out rougher than  
he intended.

"He said that you could only give me…you could only give me half of  
your heart. That you would spoil me and throw me away—I know that  
part isn't true, but the first—"

Aragorn wrapped his arm around the back of Frodo's neck and brought  
his wet face close to his. He looked into Frodo's blue eyes, so naked  
with misery. He kissed every tear he found before finding Frodo's  
lips and pressing down again. When he pulled away, Frodo's eyes were  
closed and his lips parted.

"I can't think of anything less true," Aragorn said. "For that has  
been my heartache since I met you--that I have finally found someone  
that I can give my entire heart to, after I thought I had given it to  
another."

Frodo opened his eyes, leaning back into Aragorn's embrace. The  
hobbit's skin was so soft. Aragorn itched to climb on him again, to  
take him with no mercy. That dizzying loss of control filled his  
body again, buzzing under the surface of his skin.

Frodo shook his head and said, "But I feel so rotten about that. How  
can I take you from…If Arwen feels for you as I do, she will be  
shattered inside if you betray her. Because that is how I would feel  
if you…if you throw me away—"

"I will never throw you away," Aragorn kissed Frodo again. "I came  
too close to losing you"

"Aragorn," Frodo clutched Aragorn's shoulders. "I…I don't want to  
bring up such an unpleasant subject right now, but—"

"What is it?"

"I don't think I shall survive this quest."

Aragorn's heart leaped inside. Frodo had stated it with such  
sincerity, such bravery. He truly believed he was going to his death  
in Mordor. Indeed he could be. They all could be going to their  
deaths.

"Nonsense. As long as I am with you—"

"Don't twist the truth to make me feel better," Frodo said. "I am no  
child. I know that this quest is only a fool's hope. I've heard  
Gandalf say it. But I bring this up because I want you to give  
everything you can to me and I in return will give all my heart to  
you—until I meet my doom. If you survive the quest, you shall have  
your Arwen and she need not ever know anything. She need not be hurt."

Hot tears filled Aragorn's eyes. Gandalf had explained that the  
halfling had acquired special perception because of bearing the Ring  
and the effect of his knife wound. Had he seen a vision of his own  
death? The idea that Frodo would not survive the quest was  
unbearable. Aragorn would not allow it to happen.

"But meanwhile," Frodo said. "I want to enjoy you, everything about  
you. No amount of pain you cause can ever match what I will face in  
the darkness of Mordor. So please, Aragorn. Please don't pull back  
because you are afraid to hurt me."

Aragorn held him close to his chest then, and both let tears fall.

  
####

  
Frodo inched out of his shirt with an inviting smile. Aragorn had  
told him that he loved him—and that was all that mattered. He could  
face anything and do anything.

"So you forgive me?" Aragorn asked quietly.

Frodo didn't answer. He curled his arms around Aragorn's neck and  
pulled him down. He kissed his lips, pushing his tongue gently  
inside Aragorn's mouth. He withdrew his tongue and lay back down on  
the grass.

"Aragorn, take me again. I cannot bear to wait."

His body throbbed with desire. It had hurt so much. The first time  
Aragorn had tried to thrust inside him, he thought he would shatter  
into thousands of pieces. He couldn't believe that someone he loved  
so dearly could cause him so much pain. But then—suddenly the pain  
had twisted into unbelievable ecstasy. He had never felt anything  
like it. Even when Sam, years and years ago, had entered him. Now  
Frodo wanted nothing more but to capture that feeling again.

Aragorn bent over him again. His rough hands stroked his face. His  
expression was hungry and pained at the same time. Frodo felt  
Aragorn's hardened member tap him again. He tried to relax,  
remembering that if he tensed, it would hurt. Aragorn wiped new oil  
on his member. Frodo wondered where he had found it. He smiled up at  
his ranger; Aragorn was always prepared for anything. Aragorn  
grabbed his shoulders. He held Frodo's gaze as he gently eased  
himself back into Frodo's body, clearly trying to gauge Frodo's pain.

"I'm all right," Frodo gasped. In truth, his inner thighs stung and  
throbbed from the last time. He tried not to flinch. The pain would  
end soon. He breathed in and out, trying to ignore the stretching  
agony. Then Aragorn hit the spot that caused Frodo's body to burst  
into colorful pleasant vibrations. He arched his back and cried out  
in pleasure. He grabbed Aragorn's hips and pulled them to him,  
wishing they could somehow merge.

"More!" Frodo cried. "Aragorn!"

Aragorn thrust with more vehemence. His jaw was clenched and he  
seemed unaware of how hard his grip was on Frodo's shoulders. Frodo  
barely felt the pain.

"Touch me, please," he gasped.

Aragorn's right hand was immediately on Frodo's swollen member and he  
stroked again in rhythm to his own thrusts. Frodo could not believe  
such pleasure was available to him. He never wanted it to stop. He  
was riding the crest, and he felt the vibrating pleasure in his body  
build and build until he knew it could not sustain much longer  
without bursting.

He cried out as his seed spilled over Aragorn's hand again. Aragorn  
gripped his shoulders again, digging his fingers in. His eyes were  
closed and he grunted. His thrusts became an increasingly rapid  
rhythm before his back arched and he cried out Frodo's name. He  
gasped for breath, pulling out of Frodo's body. He gasped, holding  
the hobbit closely to him. They clung to each other, catching their  
breaths. Finally Aragorn sat up, pulling Frodo up into his lap.  
Frodo's limbs felt like jelly.

His skin was cold despite their heated love-making.

"Let us get dressed, Frodo," Aragorn said. "Then I will hold you. It  
is too cold to stay unclothed out here."

Frodo reluctantly moved out of Aragorn's lap. He put on his shirt  
with the broken buttons and bloody sleeves, cringing at how filthy he  
must look. He buttoned his vest over it, feeling for the Ring in his  
pocket.

Aragorn said, "I will check on your wounds that I caused when we  
return to the hut."

"Must we return?" Frodo asked, pulling up his trousers. He could  
barely stand.

"The others must wonder where we are," Aragorn said. He had dressed  
much more quickly and was now putting on his boots.

"There you are!"

Frodo and Aragorn startled as Boromir strode out of the woods. His  
eyes glittered strangely, and Frodo couldn't help but wonder if he  
had witnessed their lovemaking.

 

TBC  



	12. Chapter 12

Boromir looked down at Aragorn and Frodo, shaking his head in bitter  
scorn.

"I should have known, Frodo. You refused me for this?"

Frodo flushed. He could not imagine that Boromir could seriously  
believe that his attempt to take Frodo could be pleasurable.

Aragorn faced Boromir, sword drawn. Frodo was in awe of his skills.  
He had not even seen him grab it from the ground.

"Son of Gondor," Aragorn said in a low, threatening voice. "You  
stand before me still alive only because you did not complete what  
you attempted this past night."

Frodo watched the men in terror. If they fought, he didn't know what  
he would do. He wished Boromir would disappear, that he would run  
away and never come back. Frodo didn't want him dead. He knew  
Aragorn didn't want him dead either. They both knew that Boromir's  
behavior was because of the Ring. The awful Ring had the power to  
cause this dreadful contention among people who were supposed to be  
united against the Enemy.

A new realization hit Frodo. The Ring would have the same effect on  
all the members of the fellowship eventually! Even Aragorn could  
turn against him at some point. He got up on shaky feet. The idea  
made him ill.

"No, Aragorn," he said. "Please don't hurt him."

"Frodo," Aragorn said, not taking his eyes off Boromir. "Go back to  
the others. Stay close to Gandalf."

"No," Frodo said. "I won't leave you."

"Do as I say!" Aragorn shouted. Frodo flinched at the harshness in  
Aragorn's voice and started to limp past the men, when Boromir  
grabbed him with a speed neither he nor Aragorn could have  
anticipated. Boromir held his sword to Frodo's throat.

"No," Frodo gasped, squirming in Boromir's fierce grip.

"There is no real reason to keep him alive," Boromir said to Aragorn.

"Boromir," Aragorn said. His face was alive with terror and fury.

"Drop your weapon, false king," Boromir sneered.

"Boromir—"

Boromir dug the edge of his sword into Frodo's skin until Frodo felt  
a trickle of blood run down his neck. Frodo swallowed wildly. If he  
moved even a small amount, the sword would seriously injure him.  
Frodo looked at Aragorn, but his vision was narrowing. The pain in  
his stomach, which had stayed under wraps during his escapade with  
Aragorn, erupted with new agony. He would not stay conscious much  
longer. If he fell, he would die at Boromir's sword.

"Aragorn," Boromir said. "Go back to the others and tell them that I  
have different plans for the Ring and its bearer. My father deserves  
a gift such as I have the power to give, and this halfling will be my  
reward."

Frodo bit his lip to keep from whimpering. Aragorn kept his gray  
eyes locked on Boromir, but Frodo saw a wild desperation in his gaze.

"Boromir," he finally said quietly. "Frodo is ill. His injuries are  
not healed. You must let me take him back."

Boromir snorted.

"You can hardly expect me to believe your concern when the two of you  
were rolling around unclothed in the wild."

So Boromir had seen them. Frodo cringed at the idea of the hostile  
man witnessing his most intimate and precious moment with Aragorn. He  
saw in Aragorn's face that he felt the same way. Frodo's vision  
darkened. He blinked again and again, struggling to stay conscious.  
Boromir's voice grew faint and Aragorn's face faded from his view.  
Frodo's last conscious thought was a fervent hope that whatever  
happened, that he would see Aragorn again.

  
^^^^^^

Aragorn watched Frodo's eyes roll back in his head. Frodo slumped  
downward, and Boromir pulled the sword away from Frodo's neck at the  
last moment. It was as Aragorn suspected. Boromir still had enough  
feeling for Frodo that he didn't truly want to kill him. Boromir's  
moment of weakness was all Aragorn needed. He struck with the agility  
of a wild animal. He hit Boromir over the head with the hilt of his  
sword. Boromir fell, barely missing Frodo's prone figure.

Aragorn lost no time. He lifted Frodo's unconscious form and ran  
through the woods back to the others. He was not sure what to do  
about Boromir's unconscious form. He would inform Gandalf and ask his  
council on the matter.

Gandalf stopped him at the door to the hut.

"What is going on, Aragorn?"

"Frodo needs treatment. I took him…he wanted to be in the wild.  
Boromir is out there unconscious—he attacked us."

"Did he hurt Frodo?" Gandalf asked sharply.

"He tried." Aragorn set Frodo back on the bed. The halfling was still  
unconscious. Aragorn unclothed his upper body. The skin around the  
incision looked pink and puffy. Frodo would probably get an  
infection. Aragorn shook his head. He had let Frodo talk him into the  
excursion in the woods; he had been too easily swayed by his lust--  
and his inability to resist his blue eyes.

"Aragorn," Gandalf said, obviously sickened. "Where did he get all  
these bruises? Was this from his fall?"

"Boromir attacked him. Gandalf, what shall we do with Boromir? I do  
not wish to kill him, but he is dangerous."

Gandalf closed his eyes.

"It's a pity we can't send him on his way. But we cannot trust that  
he would stay away from the company. The Ring would draw him again.  
I will chant words over him, Aragorn. I will keep him in a state of  
sleep. Meanwhile, I will send a message to Gondor. When Frodo is  
able to travel, we will leave. Boromir will be separated from the  
company in the most humane way possible."

Aragorn nodded, looking down on Frodo. He couldn't bear to see the  
hobbit in pain. Once again, he prayed with everything inside him  
that Frodo would survive his quest and that they would know happier  
times together. He imagined them in a sunny field, both in the prime  
of health. He pictured Frodo's rosy cheeks and his easy laughter. He  
pictured his small hands running eagerly over Aragorn's body.

"Gandalf, I will need more athelas. His wound is getting infected.  
I fear to leave him alone right now."

 

TBC  



	13. Chapter 13

Frodo lay still. His breaths came in jagged gasps. His brow burned  
and his throat felt like it was lined with fiery hair. He could  
barely swallow. His stomach throbbed, inside and outside. Everything  
hurt. His most private areas, where Aragorn had taken him with such  
delightful force, ached, though he did not regret that pain. He  
tried to talk, but Aragorn shushed him.

"Sleep, Frodo. You need rest."

"Boromir--"

"Do not worry about Boromir. He is sleeping."

"Don't...don't kill him," Frodo muttered. He could all too clearly  
picture Aragorn in the fury of lust for the Ring. He pictured  
Gandalf or Legolas shooting him down in order to protect the  
Ringbearer. He could not bear the thought. He would not have his  
friends die because of something they could not control. He knew that  
Boromir's feelings for him had started innocently and that the Ring  
had twisted them into something dark and violent.

"Nobody's going to kill anyone," Aragorn said flatly. "Now I need  
you to swallow this tea. I've crushed some Sorn flower in it. It's  
not as strong as the doses I had you swallow before, but then  
thankfully you're not bleeding as heavily this time. I added some  
honey so it should taste tolerable."

"I like honey," Frodo managed a smile.

"I know. Gandalf said hobbits have a special weakness for honey."

Frodo tried to laugh but his stomach contracted in violent pain. He  
grabbed Aragorn's hand and squeezed. Aragorn rubbed Frodo's clammy  
brow.

"Frodo, I'm so sorry. If I had let myself act on my feelings that day  
you scouted with me, then maybe you wouldn't have fallen. Maybe you  
would have been walking with me instead of stumbling along that rough  
path on your own."

"No," Frodo said. "Not your fault." His eyelids felt heavy. He was  
so weak. He could not imagine going anywhere. Aragorn's lips brushed  
his forehead. He managed a small smile before slipping into sleep.

When he woke, Aragorn was putting cold rags on his forehead. He  
wished more than ever that he was in good health. Then Aragorn's  
hands would be all over him. He would see him as he had just a few  
hours earlier. He once again cursed his weak state. His time was  
precious, and he didn't want to waste a second of it being ill.

"Frodo, please don't thrash. You're going to make it worse."

Frodo looked up at him, pleading in his eyes.

"Aragorn, please stay with me. Don't leave me."

"Legolas is gathering more athelas for me. I won't leave you. Your  
other friends want to see you as well, but I'm afraid I'm selfish for  
now--I want you to myself. They can see you after you've had some  
more rest."

Frodo clutched Aragorn's warm, dry hand. He imagined that they both  
survived the quest. Frodo was back in the Shire, and Aragorn was  
living with him in Bag End. The practical problems of the arrangement  
were not necessary in fantasy. In reality, he knew that Aragorn's  
long legs would dangle over the end of Frodo's feather bed, that he  
would constantly need to bend over to avoid knocking his head on  
ceiling fixtures or lamps. Not to mention the shock of the neighbors.  
Frodo stifled a giggle as he imagined what his nosy neighbors would  
have to say about eccentric Frodo Baggins living with a ranger out of  
the wild.

"What's funny?" Aragorn asked with a slow smile.

"I was just picturing what my neighbors would think if you came back  
with me to the Shire."

"Would you like that?"

"Very much so," Frodo said. He was overwhelmed by a new wave of  
dizzyness. He shut his eyes. The room spun in vicious circles.

"Frodo?" Aragorn said in concern.

"I'm okay," Frodo said faintly. Aragorn bent down and kissed his  
cracked lips. Frodo arched up, trying to meet him, but Aragorn  
pulled back.

"If we both survive this," Aragorn said, his voice low and husky. "I  
promise you, Frodo, that I will come with you to the Shire. Now, I'm  
going to have you swallow some more of this tea. Can you sit up for  
me?"

Aragorn helped Frodo into a semi-reclining position. Frodo felt  
completely at home at the mercy of Aragorn's strong arms. He was  
content to go limp and allow Aragorn to take control.

"Aragorn," he said, sipping the tea. The taste was repulsive, but he  
tried not to flinch. Aragorn had tried his best to make it  
tolerable.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I fell."

Aragorn looked at him, puzzled, and Frodo continued, his eyes  
shutting in contentment.

"You have to admit that if my life hadn't been in danger, you would  
have kept your feelings for me to yourself. And then I would have  
died inside. My pain would have been much worse."

"Oh, Frodo," Aragorn ran his hands through Frodo's dark curls. "I  
love you so much. Eventually I wouldn't have been able to hold it  
in. For my part, I'm not glad you fell. I've never been so frightened  
in my life."

He kissed Frodo's brow, his nose, and finally his lips again. Frodo  
moaned in response. He longed for Aragorn's weight on him again, to  
feel him inside, throbbing and thrusting.

"Now I want you to sleep," Aragorn whispered. "I need to speak with  
Gandalf. I shall be right outside the door."

Frodo sighed and closed his eyes again. "Don't stay long."

***

Aragorn kissed Frodo once more before going outside. He found Gandalf  
restlessly pacing outside the hut.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked. "Is it Boromir?"

"I have made a decision regarding him," Gandalf said.

"What?" Aragorn looked at his old friend. His eyes looked weary with  
pain.

"We cannot leave him here alone and in his state. It is murder. We  
cannot risk sending a message to Gondor. I spoke with him, Aragorn.  
I used power that I vowed never to use against mortals, but I felt I  
needed to do so in this case. I said that if he attacked Frodo again,  
made any more attempts to capture the Ring or its bearer, that that  
day would be the last of his life. I do not know whether I put this  
curse upon him or if I am merely prophesizing. It was the best I  
could do."

Gandalf sighed and looked down. He looked weary beyond his ancient  
years.

"Did he understand?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, I believe he did. He feels terrible for what he has done to  
Frodo, to you. I spoke words over him while he was unconcious,  
activated a spell to protect him against the call of the Ring. It is  
not strong enough to counter Sauron's evil, but it will help him."

"Dear Gandalf," Aragorn said. "I am grateful, and Frodo will be  
grateful as well. He did not want Boromir to be killed in his current  
state."

"Nor did I," Gandalf said. "Nor did I. How is it with you and Frodo,  
by the way?"

Aragorn sighed. He wished Frodo's health was more certain. As it  
was, he hung by a delicate thread. It wrenched his heart to think  
that he could lose him at any moment. If Frodo died, a blackness  
would cover Aragorn's heart. It would not matter that the quest had  
failed.

"I love him, Gandalf. I do not know what this means or to what fate  
it will carry me."

Gandalf patted Aragorn's shoulder.

"I know, dear friend. Know this. I have known Arwen Evenstar a long  
time, much longer than you. I have been thinking much lately, and I  
have the feeling it may not be as much of a conflict as you think. I  
think she may be pleased that you found happiness and love on your  
dark journey."

Aragorn's heart felt lighter at Gandalf's words. He thought about  
the wise glow in Arwen's eyes and knew that he spoke the truth. She  
would understand. Somewhere in his heart, he had known it all along  
or he never would have so easily given into his feelings for Frodo.

"Gandalf, old friend, I appreciate your words. Now I must go sit by  
Frodo. I promised I wouldn't leave him."

 

TBC  



	14. Chapter 14

Aragorn went back in the hut with a soft smile, but his smile quickly  
froze when he saw Frodo staring at the ceiling in an unseeing glaze.  
He rushed to the small figure on the bed. His curls stuck to the  
damp, cold sweat on his brow. His fists clenched the blanket as if he  
had just lost the great struggle to breathe.

"Frodo!" Aragorn touched the hobbit's skin, but it was cold. How long  
had he not been breathing? Aragorn lost no time. He put one hand on  
Frodo's brow, gently tilting his head back. He felt for a pulse. He  
sagged in relief when he felt it, faint and rapid. Frodo had not  
gone without breath for too long. He pinched Frodo's nose before  
breathing into his cold lips. He listened for breath. Nothing. He  
repeated his actions again and again, sometimes pausing to massage  
Frodo's cold skin. He desperately tried not to let his panic cloud  
his work. He had done this many times on many battlefields. The  
times he had not succeeded in saving lives were the times the soldier  
had been someone dear to him and he had broken down in the middle of  
trying to save him. Though desperate tears threatened, he would not  
let Frodo down.

He had to be careful not to breathe full breaths into Frodo, as he  
would with a man. A man's lungs had far greater capacity than a  
hobbit's and he didn't want to cause damage to Frodo's lungs. He  
couldn't believe just hours earlier he had enjoyed the ultimate  
pleasure with this small but precious person. The fragile-looking  
hobbit had gone through too much in too short a time. His shoulder  
wound had not been fully healed when they had set off, he had taken  
that great fall, he had been brutally knocked around by a soldier  
nearly twice his height, he had been attacked by Boromir. Aragorn  
cringed in shame as he considered the effects of his own lust for the  
hobbit that had caused him to go against what he knew was good for  
his health. The hobbit needed nothing more than to rest for weeks in  
a soft, undisturbed bed. But this was not to be. As soon as Frodo  
could walk, they had to move on. And then things were only going to  
get worse.

Frodo let out a desperate gasp. Aragorn's chest loosened in profound  
relief. The hobbit was breathing again. Frodo coughed a little and  
opened his eyes. He looked puzzled when he saw the tear running down  
Aragorn's face.

"What happened?" Frodo asked in a croak.

"You stopped breathing," Aragorn said.

Frodo closed his eyes again. "I'm so tired, Aragorn."

Aragorn rubbed Frodo's hand. "I know. I wish I could ease your pain  
more. I have such limited supplies here. If I could, I'd put the pain  
upon myself."

"Just being with you," Frodo said in a soft voice. "Is enough right  
now. Please don't leave me again."

"I won't. I promise. Legolas should be here shortly with more athelas  
and Sorn flower. Just hold on."

Frodo looked at the ceiling with a sad smile. "Aragorn, what will we  
do? When this is all over?"

"What do you mean?"

"When the Ring is destroyed and you gain your kingdom. What will  
become of us?"

Aragorn smiled. The hobbit did not sound as morbid as he had earlier  
in the day. He now spoke as if he would survive the quest.

"I don't know for sure," Aragorn said. "I just know that I never want  
to be separated from you. I want you by my side always."

Frodo sank back in his pillow with a content smile on his  
face. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. Kiss me, Aragorn. Please."

Aragorn lowered his weight on his elbows on either side of Frodo's  
shoulders and pressed his lips to Frodo's, feeling a surge of joy  
when he felt the gentle puffs of air from Frodo's mouth. If he had  
stayed outside to talk to Gandalf even a few minutes more, it would  
have been too late. Frodo's lips felt velvet and moist. Aragorn  
longed to sink down on Frodo and take him again--this time with slow  
and languid grace--but he knew that was the height of selfishness.  
Frodo needed to recover. He pulled back, smiling at the annoyance in  
Frodo's eyes.

Aragorn stroked his face. "First we must get you better."

Legolas came in.

"Aragorn, I found the Sorn flower and athelas." He looked at Frodo in  
pity. "How do you feel, little one?"

"Much better," Frodo said with a smile.

"Don't listen to him," Aragorn said. "His incision is infected,  
though not too bad yet. He's still in shock--stopped breathing for a  
few moments just now, and I suspect there's still some inside  
bleeding."

He didn't mention the hurts that he had given Frodo from their  
violent pairing earlier. He would wash those in athelas when they  
were alone.

"Would you allow me to help?" Legolas asked Frodo, touching his  
brow. "I may be able to ease your pain. Elves once lived in this  
area, and I have found a special flower known to my people and used  
for healing purposes. I did not expect to find it so far from my  
home."

"Yes, of course," Frodo said, looking at Aragorn. "But I want Aragorn  
to stay."

"He will." Legolas winked at Aragorn. "I won't let him out of our  
sight."

Sam burst into the hut. "Mr. Frodo! I couldn't stay away! Please  
don't keep me from you."

"Sam, now isn't the time," Aragorn said sternly.

"It's okay," Legolas said. "He can stay."

Frodo smiled at Sam. "I'm all right, Sam. I really feel much better."

Sam had tears coming down his face as he clutched Frodo's hand. "I  
heard about what happened with Mr. Boromir. Strider, is he going to  
be all right? He's been through so much!"

"All right, Sam," Legolas said. "I'll need you to step away from the  
bed. You may sit on the stool and watch."

"How is the rest of the company?" Frodo asked. "I feel so terrible  
for causing this delay."

"Don't speak like such, little one. You have the most right out of  
anyone to cause delay," Legolas said. "It is with you that all our  
hope lies. So don't worry. Just close your eyes."

Frodo obeyed the elf. Aragorn planted a tender kiss on his brow.  
Legolas gave him a knowing glance as he rubbed the petals of the  
fragrant flower on his fingers and stroked Frodo's skin. Soon Frodo  
sighed in contentment and his breaths became deep and even.

"He's asleep," Legolas said. "When he wakes, he will feel much less  
pain."

Legolas opened Frodo's shirt. Sam gasped when he saw the wicked red  
marks around his incision. "Oh, my poor Mr. Frodo!"

"Sam," Aragorn said. "Let's leave Legolas to do his job. Come with me  
outside."

"I'm not leaving him, Strider. Not unless you carry me out of here."

Aragorn forced Sam to his feet and guided him to the door. He didn't  
want Frodo's dearest friend to see the extent of Frodo's wounds.

"Come Samwise, you can see him the minute he wakes, I promise."

Once Sam and Aragorn were outside of the hut, Sam turned to Aragorn.

"What are you doing to Mr. Frodo?" he asked quietly. Aragorn looked  
down at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't mean disrespect, sir, but Frodo loves you so much, Strider.  
You've been around the world, but Mr. Frodo's never left the Shire.  
He's never been in love, though I never understood it. He's so kind  
and he's got so much to give. He didn't deserve this, Strider. So I  
guess I just want to say that if you're just playing with him, just  
stop now. I don't know what you're doing juggling Mr. Frodo and the  
elf lady back home, but don't break his heart. He doesn't have your  
experience, so he thinks this love, or whatever you're giving him, is  
forever. I'm grateful for all you've done for us and for him, but if  
you hurt him, you'll answer to me!"

"Sam," Aragorn said, squeezing the indignant hobbit's shoulder. "I  
couldn't possibly love anyone more than Frodo. I'm not playing, nor  
do I ever plan to. I will go with him to the end, to the very fires  
of Mordor. And then I plan never to let him go."

Sam's harsh expression slowly faded. "Good then, Mr. Strider, good."

 

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

"Aragorn," Boromir said. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot  
and his face was drawn and pale. "I know I am not worthy of speaking  
to anyone in the company right now. I can't express enough how I have  
let the company down by my shameful weakness and uncivilized actions  
toward Frodo."

Boromir put his hands to his brow as if he had a terrible headache.

Aragorn sighed. He pictured those rough hands grabbing Frodo's arms,  
pinning him down, bruising him, reopening his wounds, but most of  
all, he pictured Boromir looking down into the terrified depths of  
Frodo's blue eyes as he wrenched open the hobbit's buttocks. He  
closed his eyes and reminded himself that Boromir had fallen under  
the influence of the Ring. He needed compassion.

"It is no small thing to be held captive by the Enemy's magic,"  
Aragorn said. "Why have you approached me?"

"I want permission to apologize to Frodo." When Aragorn shook his  
head--the man was not going to get anywhere near Frodo, Boromir  
grasped his arm. "Please, Aragorn. It is very important. Give me a  
moment to speak to him one last time; after that I won't even look at  
him, though it will feel like a dagger in my heart."

Aragorn looked at him at the corner of his eye. Boromir looked  
genuinely pained. The man's feelings for Frodo had started out  
innocently. Aragorn remembered how Boromir had watched the brave  
halfling with the sparkling blue eyes at the council. He must have  
fallen hard for him at that time. Aragorn could well sympathize.

A cold thought passed over Aragorn. What if at some point in the  
quest, the Ring overtook him? What if he turned on Frodo, unable to  
control his insatiated need? He pictured the loving trust in those  
blue eyes turning first to fear and pain and then to hatred. He  
couldn't bear it. He would abandon Frodo and the quest before he let  
anything like that happen.

"Aragorn," Boromir continued. "You don't realize how lucky you are. I  
would die for what you have."

"A life of exile?" Aragorn asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "To  
be scorned and feared whereever you go?"

"You know of what I speak," Boromir said. "The gentle heart of the  
one inside the hut. That is what I would die for. Now I know that is  
not possible, and I am under oath to have nothing more to do with him  
or the Ring. I will not break my oath--or I will die. I wish only to  
apologize to him."

"Very well," Aragorn said. "I shall ask him. But if he is  
uncomfortable with it, I will deny your request. If he is willing, I  
will be right here, outside the hut."

***

Frodo looked at the ceiling. It had been several hours since Aragorn  
had left him. He felt much better and was even feeling somewhat bored  
lying alone in this hut. The flower Legolas had rubbed over his skin  
seemed to have the power to raise him above his pain and weakness. He  
wanted nothing more than to have Aragorn lying next to him in this  
bed pleasuring him as he had in the clearing. He closed his eyes in  
contentment. Soon. He felt guilty because he had not longed to see  
his other friends. Poor Sam. What must he think? Frodo felt a surge  
of new guilt as he realized that Sam would understand and would step  
aside to allow Frodo this small happiness with no feelings of  
resentment.

The door opened, and Frodo looked up with a pleased smile.

"Aragorn, please lie beside me," Frodo said. "I feel so much better.  
If we are to start off tomorrow morning, could we not have a night  
together?"

"Frodo, I could never turn down such a request from you," Aragorn  
said with a smile. "But first I need to ask you something."

His smile faded, and Frodo looked at him in concern. Aragorn looked  
sad and scared.

"What is it, Aragorn?"

"Boromir would like leave to speak with you a moment. I told him that  
I would only allow it if you were completely comfortable with it."

"Boromir?" Frodo's throat felt dry.

"Like I said, Frodo. If you're not comfortable with this, it will not  
happen."

"All right," Frodo said, bewildered. He had no real desire to speak  
alone with the man who had so violently tried to ravish him the  
previous night. He wanted to forget about him. He wanted Aragorn to  
stay in the hut with him and take him as he had earlier.

"Are you certain? Only if you are certain."

"All right, I will do it. But I want you to come back in immediately  
afterwards. I want to have you here on this bed again."

"Insatiable hobbit!" Aragorn said, turning red. Frodo noticed that  
his hands trembled. He didn't think that Aragorn had expected a  
hobbit to be so aggressive.

Boromir stepped in, his face grave with sorrow. Frodo tried to sit  
up in bed. He did not want to appear to be weak to the Gondorian. His  
muscles trembled from the effort. The pain was gone, but he was weak  
and drained.

"Frodo," Boromir said, sitting on the stool. Frodo noticed how  
bloodshot his eyes were. "I will not bother you after this. You have  
my word."

Frodo was not sure what he should say. "Boromir," he finally said in  
a soft voice. "I know you weren't yourself."

"Frodo," Boromir said, his voice cracking slightly. "I fell in love  
with you from the moment I saw you at the council of Elrond. I tried  
to hide it, but the cursed Ring--it twists everything pure into  
something evil. I know I have ruined what little chance I ever had  
through my behavior. It is my bane, and I accept it. All I would ask  
for is your forgiveness."

Frodo felt dizzy with embarrassment. He hadn't expected Boromir to be  
so forthcoming and humble. Frodo grasped Boromir's hand with his  
small hands. "I do forgive you. I hope that the path to your city  
brings you success and that it will not be a darker path than mine."  
Frodo smiled at him. Boromir managed a sad smile back. He gently  
kissed Frodo's hand before releasing it and reluctantly standing.

"Thank you. I will leave you now."

Frodo knew there was nothing more to say. He wished that  
circumstances with Boromir had not gone so far out of control.  
Aragorn stepped back in and closed the door behind him.

"Legolas thinks you should be ready to travel first thing tomorrow  
morning."

"I feel wonderful, Aragorn." Frodo beckoned to him. "Come. Please  
don't leave a poor hobbit all alone in such a big bed."

"You're intolerable, Frodo," Aragorn said with a dangerous smile. He  
unclasped his cloak and let it fall behind him.

Frodo gave him his best stern look. "Get undressed, ranger."

Aragorn looked at him in pleased surprise. "Are you sure you're up to  
this, Frodo?"

"It's our last night in a real bed. We must take advantage. Now stop  
looking at me and get undressed!" He was surprised at how much he  
enjoyed being bossy. Aragorn flushed again, clearly turned on.

"I believe you are feeling much better, Frodo."

Frodo's cheeks warmed as Aragorn stripped off his shirt and took off  
his boots. Only his breeches were on still. He climbed on the bed,  
straddling Frodo on either side. He kissed the hobbit on his mouth  
several times. Frodo's hands curled around the nape of Aragorn's  
neck. With a single shove from his shoulder, Frodo took Aragorn by  
surprise and knocked him over on his back. He was breathing rapidly  
as he leaned over Aragorn. Still keeping his eyes fixed on Aragorn's  
stunned face, he slid down until he was between Aragorn's legs. He  
worked on the breeches with his nimble fingers.

 

TBC  



	16. Chapter 16

Frodo pulled Aragorn's already hardening member out of his breeches  
and stroked it with firm but loving strokes. He couldn't believe he  
was getting a second chance to indulge the dizzying sweetness he had  
been immersed in with Aragorn in the clearing--when had it been? The  
minutes, the hours, the days seemed to have merged together since he  
had been injured and Aragorn had carried him to this hut. He  
maintained bold eye contact with Aragorn, and he was pleased to see  
the ranger blush and look down. Frodo was no shy tweenager. He could  
now officially call himself experienced with men. He smiled at the  
thought. He hoped Aragorn was the only man he would ever be  
experienced with.

He watched in delight as Aragorn's breath quickened in response to  
his touch. He could do this the rest of his life and never grow tired  
of seeing Aragorn writhe beneath him. Aragorn grabbed his arms. Frodo  
squirmed. If he wasn't careful, Aragorn would push him on his back,  
and he wasn't ready to lose control yet. He wanted to draw this out  
as long as possible.

"You're still dressed, Frodo," Aragorn said. Frodo would never tired  
of his sexy, dangerous voice.

"Don't be impatient," Frodo said with a crooked smile. Aragorn  
shuddered beneath him. Frodo still marveled that he had the power to  
cause Aragorn--this large, handsome man with years of experience--to  
shudder under the touch of his small hands. "Let's take care of you  
first."

Aragorn's hot, stiff member rubbed against Frodo's stomach as he  
crawled onto Aragorn's chest and allowed his tongue to explore first  
Aragorn's neck and then his lips. Aragorn moved his hips, thrusting  
against Frodo with increasing urgency. Frodo's fingers drifted down  
Aragorn's stubbled face, his neck and over his chest until he found  
Aragorn's ripe nipples. Aragorn's grip on his arms tightened.  
Frodo tried not to gasp in pain as he allowed his tongue to dart  
around each of Aragorn's nipples. Aragorn released Frodo's arms and  
slipped his hands under Frodo's clothes. He stroked Frodo's sides  
from just under his arms to his hips and over his buttocks. Frodo  
groaned under his rough touch and felt his own member tighten inside  
his breeches.

"Frodo," Aragorn gasped. "Please. Now."

Frodo reluctantly slid down out of Aragorn's reach until he was  
kneeling between Aragorn's spread legs in front of his huge stiffened  
shaft. He couldn't believe that something so large had been inside  
his body and had not torn him to pieces. He put his rosy lips over  
the tip, licking away the pearly liquid that had seeped out.

"Frodo..." Aragorn groaned, closing his eyes. Sweat had broken out  
on his forehead. Frodo took as much of Aragorn's member into his  
mouth as would fit--until he nearly gagged. His tongue had only  
flickered around it twice when Aragorn arched his back as if he were  
about to go into convulsions and released his seed with a shuddering  
gasp. Frodo swallowed what he could. He crawled up to Aragorn's  
chest to seek out his lips. Aragorn planted famished kisses on  
Frodo's lips and neck while holding him tightly to his chest.

"Frodo, I love you," Aragorn gasped.

"I know." Frodo unbuttoned his vest with a pleased smile. Aragorn  
undid Frodo's breeches. Frodo's member was still hard and stiff. He  
gasped when Aragorn's fingers wrapped around it.

"It's your turn, hobbit." Aragorn scooted against the wall so that he  
was half sitting up and Frodo was on his lap.

"I want you inside me again," Frodo said. His breathing came short  
and fast. Aragorn's fingers around his member did not move. He was  
afraid he'd release if Aragorn didn't do something soon.

"No," Aragorn shook his head. "I hurt you the last time. I won't do  
that again."

"Aragorn!" Frodo said indignantly. He knew it was useless to argue  
with him. He simply needed to get him aroused enough so that he did  
not care.

Aragorn unbuttoned the rest of Frodo's grimy shirt with his free  
hand. A tingling sensasion surged through Frodo. The friction from  
Aragorn's rough hand against his member made him lean against  
Aragorn's chest and groan with pleasure. He left wet kisses on  
Aragorn's chest. He let his hands drift down Aragorn's back until  
they were inside his breeches, which were unfastened but still not  
off of him. He massaged Aragorn's buttocks and let his fingers slip  
into the cleft for a teasing second before pulling away. Aragorn  
tensed. His hand around Frodo's member moved roughly and urgently. As  
Frodo had hoped, Aragorn had quickly grown hard again.

Frodo was dizzy with wanting. He didn't care if the entire fellowship  
burst in at that moment. He didn't care if an army of orcs descended  
on the company. He would not stop. If only this could go on and on  
forever. If only they didn't have to go on with the quest. Frodo  
could lie in Aragorn's embrace forever.

Frodo shifted so that he sat on Aragorn's lap, facing him, right in  
front of his hardened member. Frodo threw his head back in  
uninhibited pleasure. Aragorn leaned in to kiss him tenderly on his  
pink lips. Frodo slowly rose on his knees. He peeled his breeches  
down until his backside was bare. He rubbed against Aragorn's  
hardened member with his bare backside several times, sending Aragorn  
into new moaning.

"No, Frodo," he said, gasping for breath.

"Now," Frodo whispered. He still balanced most of his weight on his  
feet so that he didn't put his full weight down on Aragorn's member.

"Oh, Frodo, you know I want it more than anything." Aragorn gripped  
Frodo's arms again. He leaned his head back in surrender. "Ah,  
you'll be the death of me."

Aragorn--thoroughly weakened by his arousal as Frodo had predicted--  
gripped Frodo by the shoulders and pushed him down. Frodo cringed in  
pain at first, though he tried his best to hide it from Aragorn. It  
wasn't nearly as painful as the first time, and it wasn't long before  
all he felt was the reverberating fullness of Aragorn inside him.  
Frodo took deep breaths, trying to draw it out, to stop the violent  
climax which threatened before Aragorn was all the way inside.

"Go, Frodo, please, move," Aragorn gasped. Frodo moved up and down.  
It wasn't fast enough for Aragorn. He grunted as if in pain, and  
before Frodo could react, he was on his back and Aragorn's weight was  
fully on top of him. Frodo flinched at the pain in his stomach from  
his wound, but the vibrations of pleasure surging through his body  
made the pain faint and unimportant.

"Aragorn," Frodo whispered, tenderly stroking the ranger's sweaty  
face with his small hand.

"Yes?" Aragorn pushed inside Frodo slowly and tenderly, trying not to  
hurt Frodo. Frodo cupped Aragorn's chin in both his hands.

"I love you."

Aragorn gave Frodo a tender kiss on his white neck.

"You're a light for me on this dark path," Frodo said. "I can bear it  
now. No matter what befalls me, I am immune to all sorrows when I'm  
in your arms and you're inside me like this."

Aragorn thrust with more urgency. He kept one of his hands on Frodo's  
shoulder and the other he clasped Frodo's member and moved over it in  
rhythm to his own thrusting. A sweet singing surged through Frodo's  
body. He bucked roughly against Aragorn as his climax spilled over  
Aragorn's bare abdomen. Aragorn released Frodo's member and clung to  
the hobbit, gasping and kissing him all over his face. Only then did  
Frodo realize that they had climaxed at the same time.

Aragorn rolled off Frodo and pulled the hobbit on his chest. He  
kissed Frodo on each eye, each cheek, his nose. His lips moved down  
to the corners of Frodo's bruised mouth.

"Frodo, I'm going to make sure you're happy. When this is all over, I  
will give up everything for you."

"Where will we live then?" Frodo asked. "Will you live in the Shire?"

Aragorn laughed and kissed Frodo's nose again. "I don't know. Do  
you think I would fit in your bed in Bag End? Would the neighbors  
approve?"

His teasing comment was so close to what Frodo had imagined earlier,  
that he burst into laughing.

"They'd envy me," Frodo said, tracing his finger along Aragorn's jaw  
line. "That I have a big, strong ranger to protect me. I'll wager the  
Sacksville-Bagginses will never bother me again."

They lay in drowsy silence, both afraid to fall asleep. Frodo's head  
was curled under Aragorn's neck and Aragorn kept his arms wrapped  
around Frodo. They fell into their first untroubled sleep in weeks.

TBC  



	17. Chapter 17

Frodo tore through the woods, his feet barely feeling the ground. The  
thudding in his heart echoed through his ears. His lungs ached from  
desperate gasps of air. A shadowy fog curled around him; wearing the  
Ring had cut him off from the real world. Malevolent whispers filled  
his ears, and wraith-like shadows darted among the trees. But he was  
still not far enough away to take off the Ring.

Boromir, who had tried so valiantly to keep his word and not touch  
him, had finally fallen. Boromir, who had saved his life in Moria,  
who had for so many weeks kept his word in not casting his eyes in  
Frodo's direction, had succumbed at last. Boromir had fought the call  
of the Ring with everything in his valiant warrior's soul, but it had  
not been enough.

Frodo's ankle throbbed where Boromir had grabbed and wrenched him  
around. His heavy body had fallen on him, just as it had in the hut  
those many weeks earlier. This time it had been lust for the Ring  
alone.

Was he the only member of the company who was capable of falling to  
the Ring's power? Had the ominous vision in Galadriel's mirror  
already begun to come true?

Frodo climbed up the stairs of the broken watch tower and clung to a  
chunk of stone.

He thought he had seen a strange gleam in Legolas' eyes that day.  
And he had caught Gimli staring at him in hard contemplation not too  
long before that. The Ring had been forged by Sauron. No mortal  
could withstand its power. Even Galadriel had struggled when Frodo  
had offered it to her. Frodo got a morbid vision of Sam's sweet face  
changing to a greedy snarl. He choked back a sob at the idea of the  
Ring taking his dearest friend. They would all turn against him. He  
had to leave the company at once and go to Mordor alone. The time for  
indecisiveness had long since passed.

Most of all, he could not bear to witness Aragorn succumbing to the  
Ring. He thought about Aragorn's gray eyes which could change from  
stern glint to deep lust in a matter of seconds. He could nearly feel  
Aragorn's strong hands snaking under Frodo's clothing and grazing  
over his soft skin. He could smell Aragorn's hot breath just before  
he kissed him--pipeweed and leather and sweat. He could picture  
Aragorn's soft smile that he tried to hide under a mask of grim  
annoyance when the younger hobbits complained about the lack of food.

Frodo could not bear to lose Aragorn. His heart still ached from the  
loss of Gandalf.

Frodo felt unfriendly eyes fix on him from seemingly everywhere at  
once. The Enemy was seeking him, pulling at him. The fiery eye in  
the tower of Barad-dur blazed in malevolent promise. He could try to  
destroy the Ring but ultimately he would be imprisoned and tortured  
and the Ring would return to the Dark Lord. Frodo squirmed and  
groaned under the blazing heat of the eye. He yanked off the Ring--  
and toppled from the statue.

Frodo sat dazed on the ground, desperately catching his breath. He  
had little time to lose. He would first need to go back to the boats.  
Then he would need to pick the supplies he would need. He would take  
one of the boats and cross the river alone. Hopefully he could do all  
of that without the company finding him. He had to go before he  
changed his mind.

"Frodo!" Aragorn yelled from behind him. Frodo jumped to his feet,  
heart pounding. Aragorn's eyes gleamed with something Frodo had never  
seen in them before--raw fear, greed, wanting, desire. "Where is the  
Ring?"

No, not him, too. Not already! Frodo's memory drifted back to the  
cold dark of Moria, before they had lost Gandalf. Frodo had squeezed  
against Aragorn in his bedroll. They had taken turns pleasuring each  
other with the only rule being that it had to be in complete silence.  
Then Aragorn's eyes had been gentle. He had brushed the Ring aside  
like it was nothing.

Frodo cried out, the ache in his heart spreading over his chest and  
down his legs until he could barely stumble away from Aragorn.

"Stay away!"

"Frodo!" Aragorn cried out, obviously stricken. "I swore to protect  
you!"

Frodo saw the hurt in Aragorn's eyes, but it was not enough. He had  
to be sure. He had to know. If Aragorn was going to strike him down  
now to take the Ring, then Frodo would rather be dead. He faced him,  
holding his hand out with the Ring in the center of his palm.

"Can you protect me from yourself? Would you destroy it?"

His hand shook. Aragorn advanced toward him, hand outstretched, eyes  
bent on the Ring as if lost in a dream. Frodo's eyes filled with  
tears. If Aragorn wanted the Ring, he would give it to him. He  
couldn't bear to have Aragorn take it by force.

***

Aragorn had never seen such overt lack of trust in Frodo's eyes. The  
sweet blue eyes which had always gazed on him in trust and adoration  
were now narrowed. What had Boromir done to him? Aragorn had a  
desire to stab his sword into Boromir and be finished with him at  
last. Then he shook his head in shame. The man had tried. At heart he  
was valiant and he loved Frodo. He had come through for them on a  
number of occasions. On Caradhras and then in Moria, they could  
never have escaped without his fighting skills and raw strength.

"Frodo," Aragorn said. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

Frodo shook his head. His face relaxed. Aragorn dropped to his  
knees. He stared at the Ring, a perfect gold band with the solution  
to his toils. With that Ring, he could have everything with no  
struggle. He could have the kingship--and Frodo. He could free Frodo  
from his burden.

No, no. Isildur had taken it and had fallen. The Ring could be  
wielded by nobody. Frodo was the only being in Middle Earth who had  
no desire to use it for anything--and that was one of the core  
reasons Aragorn loved him so dearly.

Aragorn's throat caught at the idea of sending Frodo into Mordor on  
his own. The harsh conditions would surely tear into his innocent  
soul. It would tear down his body. He might die. Might? He could not  
imagine himself surviving in the rough enemy-infested land, much less  
one so small and fragile. Though not weak. Never weak. Frodo was one  
of the strongest people he knew.

No, Aragorn could not bear to send the one he loved the most into  
Mordor, but he had no choice. For now he knew he could not go with  
him. Like Isildur, he was weak. The Ring had tantalized him, had  
taken him for a brief moment. A moment too long. During that time, he  
had realized how easy it would be to reach out and snap Frodo's soft,  
beautiful neck and claim the Ring for his own. The call would only  
grow stronger as he neared Mordor.

He threw his arms fiercely around the halfling's small frame. So  
small and delicate, yet he carried a burden that nobody else could  
have bore even this far. Nobody else had the purity of spirit. How he  
loved that spirit in Frodo! His mouth sought Frodo's. Frodo parted  
his lips and Aragorn tasted his sweet breath. For the last time. His  
hands roamed under Frodo's jacket, vest, and heavy shirt.

"Stay safe, my love," he said, his throat filled with pain. "You must  
return to me."

"Aragorn," Frodo said, voice cracking. "Take care of the others.  
Especially Sam."

Aragorn could no longer hold back the tears that sprang from his  
eyes. How sweet it had been in Lorien. Frodo's wounds--from his fall  
and then later from the heart-stopping moment when he had been  
speared in Moria--had healed under the care of the elves. Aragorn  
and Frodo had spent the languid weeks exploring each other's bodies,  
taking breaks to lie naked in the grass and learn everything about  
each other.

Aragorn kissed Frodo again, crushing Frodo in his arms.

"Come back to me," he said again, barely able to speak. His heart  
swelled, threatening to crack. He could not let go. He sensed danger  
in the nearby woods, and he could not release Frodo.

"If I come back..." Frodo whispered, his wide blue eyes wet and full  
of agony.

"No!" Aragorn said fiercely. "Not if. WHEN. Say it."

"When I come back," Frodo said. "It will be like Lorien."

Aragorn glanced down and caught the blue glow of Sting. He pushed  
Frodo back away from him. Frodo stumbled backward in surprise.

"Run!"

Frodo glanced down at Sting, his eyes widening with further terror.  
Aragorn resisted the urge to beg him to hide nearby instead until he  
was free to come with him. Frodo was the only one who could do this  
deed, Aragorn reminded himself. The only one. He alone could go to  
Mordor--and he had to do so now.

"Run, Frodo!" Aragorn shouted. Aragorn pulled out his sword as he  
watched the one he loved more than anything or anybody in Middle  
Earth stumble backwards, reluctant to turn away. Aragorn allowed  
himself one last glance of blue eyes and curly dark hair before Frodo  
turned and disappeared into the darkness of the woods.

"Until we meet again," Aragorn whispered as he lifted his sword and  
strode to meet whatever darkness was in store for him.

 

END  



End file.
